


L’Étranger

by poorly_animated



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bad Decisions, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Crying During Sex, Drunk Sex, Drunken Flirting, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, During Canon, Enemies, Enemies to Lovers, Flirting, Hook-Up, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Mistaken Identity, One Night Stands, Philosophy, Public Blow Jobs, Romantic Angst, Smut, Yorkshin City | Yorknew City (Hunter X Hunter), Yorkshin City | Yorknew City Arc (Hunter X Hunter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:22:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28678080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poorly_animated/pseuds/poorly_animated
Summary: Leorio goes out to find a one-night stand in Yorknew, cause after all, the Troupe’s dead, so what’s the harm? He encounters a mysterious dark-haired stranger with a penchant for philosophy and takes him home.
Relationships: Gon Freecs & Kurapika & Leorio Paladiknight & Killua Zoldyck, Hisoka/Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer, Kurapika & Leorio Paladiknight, Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer/Leorio Paladiknight
Comments: 21
Kudos: 45





	1. The Night Before

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soap (Anaarlips)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anaarlips/gifts).



> you can’t tell me this isn’t canon. endless thanks to Soap (anaarlips) for the inspiration.

_ All our knowledge begins with the senses, proceeds then to the understanding, and ends with reason. There is nothing higher than reason. _

_ Immanuel Kant. _

———————

There’s been a crazy massacre, and the perpetrators are dead, and the kids were captured by the Phantom Troupe, and Kurapika’s definitely on the verge of some mental breakdown, but Leorio’s still got all this fucking energy, his whole body’s all tense, he’s  _ still _ unbearably horny, and still wide awake at 1 A.M. He groans as he rolls over for the hundredth time. Probably shouldn’t have had so much beer earlier. He reaches for his phone and scrolls through social media. Everything is about the chaos, and the Troupe, and the mafia, and nothing can ever be fucking  _ normal _ these days. Leorio scowls at the screen. He’s fucking exhausted by all of it. He’s itching to do something normal again. Since the kids showed up, he hasn’t a chance to get laid, and he feels like he’s going crazy. But none of his recent matches are messaging him back. He groans again. Nobody’s gonna risk their lives to get laid tonight, not after that shit that happened downtown. But he misses feeling like a stupid goddamn college student. All of his friends are back at school, probably working hard and partying harder, while he’s screwing around with some magically powerful kids and a stupid auction. The auction is especially pissing him off, actually. It’s just such a gross display of wealth and power, such a fucked-up way for the city to publicly bend over for the mafia instead of cracking down on their monopolies and slums. Zepile understood, but he passed out hours ago. There’s a dive bar around the corner that doesn’t card. Leorio sits up slowly and considers heading out. Maybe he can still get lucky.

——————

_ An intellectual is someone whose mind watches itself. _

_ Albert Camus. _

——————

Chrollo sighs and drifts through the halls of the hideout, feeling strangely dissatisfied with himself. The others are still celebrating loudly in the main room. He can hear Nobunaga and Phinks shouting at each other about their fifth shotgun race in a row and he rolls his eyes, exhausted by it all. The heist was successful. They’ve shaken off the chain user by faking their deaths. He even had the opportunity to gain a new power and pay homage to Uvo. So why does he still feel so blurred? He fingers the pages of his book and glances at the quote he underlined while that Nostrade girl was taken to the hospital. “What can I know? What ought I to do? What can I hope?” Difficult questions that seek difficult answers. He sighs and walks on.

It’s finally stopped raining and Chrollo can see the full moon, a beautiful, reassuring globe painting a faint haze over the night sky. He digs his hands into the pockets of his cloak and stares up at the stars through the broken window. Perhaps he should go out. Hisoka seemed to slip away almost as soon as they toasted their success, which is quite frustrating. Chrollo had expected to spend the night with him. It bothers him more than he wants to admit that his sometimes-lover hasn’t come onto him even once in the days they’d been in the city. He hadn’t seen Hisoka in over a month, and now he seems to be getting pushed away. He gazes down at his shoes and wonders if he did something wrong. It’s so unlike Hisoka to be uninterested in sex. Maybe Chrollo’s just lost his appeal: after all, he’s been finding ways out of the magician’s kinkier desires recently, trying to get Hisoka to actually treat him as something like a partner. It always feels so shameful to think about silly, romantic notions like that. But then Chrollo pictures the way Pakunoda looks at Machi across a crowded room or the way Feitan curls up next to Phinks as though it’s the most natural thing in the world and his heart  _ wants, _ it craves beyond reason, so desperately that it makes his chest ache. He swallows uncomfortably and glances out at the night again. He’s supposed to be above such emotion. But it’s still possible that he could find it, isn’t it? No, that’s a silly thing to think. Hisoka hardly believes in love, and it’s not as if Chrollo will meet anyone. Even so, getting away from the others for a moment might be nice. He looks over his shoulder and ducks into the room he’s claimed, tossing his cloak into the corner before he heads out. He remembers the headband at the last minute and giggles at his recklessness. How unlike him to be so distracted by the thought of being touched. Then again, it’s been quite an exciting night. 

——————

The bar’s mostly empty, hardly surprising given the late hour and the evening’s events. The bartender passes Leorio his whisky with a slightly confused stare. Leorio just hands over a generous tip and spins on his stool, looking around the bar. Most of the lingering patrons are fairly old. A few of them still look good, though, especially a dark-skinned woman drinking by the jukebox and a tall man with a salt-and-pepper beard. Leorio sips his drink and turns to check out the rest of the room. He’s surprised to see a young guy walking up to the bar. He takes a slow sip and watches him order a drink. The stranger is medium height and slender, though Leorio can tell his arms are deceptively muscular as he watches him lean up against the bar and smile at the bartender. His eyes roam down the stranger’s rumpled dress shirt to the bizarre strips of fabric criss-crossing his pants. The guy’s posture is awfully casual for someone who looks like he’s just been in a fight. He tilts his head and Leorio notices the thick headband wrapped under his shaggy black hair. Maybe some kind of hippie art student? He’s also reading a book that looks about a hundred years old. Yeah, this guy seems like an interesting challenge. Leorio gets up and walks towards him. 

Chrollo is startled by the tall young man appearing next to him. He blinks up at him, wondering what kind of strange person wears tiny sunglasses into a dive bar in the middle of the night. “Hello?”

“Hey there. Whatcha drinking?”

“Tequila,” Chrollo says, intrigued. The stranger sports pinstriped navy dress pants and a coordinating blazer, though he’s wearing a slightly oversized college t-shirt to complete the look. His black hair sticks in every direction as though he’s just crawled out of bed. Dark stubble compliments his sharp jaw. 

The stranger raises his eyebrows and nods approvingly. “That’s fun. You always a tequila guy, or is tonight a special occasion?”

“Hmm,” Chrollo hums at his drink. He takes a small sip and wonders why he feels the urge to talk to this odd man. Might as well. “In a way,” he says slyly, “though I can’t really say yet.” This stranger is even taller than Hisoka. Chrollo’s eyes dart down to his pants again, his rather  _ tight _ pants, and then they flick back up.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” the man chuckles. He lifts his drink to Chrollo and takes a swig. “To you, then, whoever you are.”

Chrollo smiles and sips his drink. His mind is already a bit fuzzy from all the beer he’d been drinking with the Troupe. Perhaps he should see where this goes. “And what are you doing here at such an hour?”

“Same as you. Drinking to my health,” Leorio jokes. This guy is cute as hell. He’s got huge, dark eyes tucked into these impossibly long eyelashes, and his shirt is unbuttoned just low enough to show off how toned his chest is, and he looks bored enough to keep Leorio on his toes. “I’m Leorio, by the way.”

“I don’t remember asking,” the stranger laughs drunkenly. A tiny flush creeps across his delicate cheeks. “My, I’m a bit more intoxicated than I realized,” he says softly. He touches one of his big blue earrings and as much as Leorio wants to ask how much gems like that cost he wants to touch them himself first. 

Leorio laughs. “Me, too. But hey, it’s definitely cuter on you,” he slurs boldly. He leans on an elbow and grins at the other man. “We’re the youngest guys here, you notice that?”

“Oh? How old do you think I am?”

“Mmm, twenty-two? You seem like you could be a little bit older than me,” Leorio guesses.

Chrollo raises his eyebrows at his book, flattered. “I’m twenty-six, actually. I’m guessing you don’t think I look it,” he murmurs. 

“Nah, I believe you. Even though we just met.”

“Is that a problem, or some kind of philosophical commentary?” 

“Just an observation,” Leorio chuckles. “But on the subject of philosophy, is that Kant? You studying for something?”

“Hmm, perhaps,” Chrollo murmurs shyly. He shows this strange man one of the pages. “I’ve been intrigued by his writings on ethics recently.” 

Leorio grins. “Oh yeah, there’s no good except good will, right?”

Chrollo blinks. “Precisely, yes. You’ve read Kant?”

“Yeah, of course,” Leorio shrugs, “I try to keep myself educated. What’s that other thing he said, about crooked wood?”

“Out of timber so crooked as that from which man is made, nothing entirely straight can be carved,” Chrollo says softly. He’s revisited that quote frequently ever since Pakunoda first shared it with him. It’s a comforting reminder that he hasn’t failed some litmus test for humanity just yet. Chrollo considers what Pakunoda would think of this “Leorio” and his casual familiarity with Kant. Hisoka would probably just tease about the crooked wood line. 

Leorio’s feet tap excitedly as the stranger closes the book. “By the way, what’s your name, cutie?”

The stranger smiles and looks down at his drink. He pauses for a bit longer than seems necessary, almost as though he has to think about his answer. “You can call me Kuro,” he says softly, “it’s close enough.” 

“Aww, that suits you,” Leorio says happily. Kuro. Kinda close to Kurapika. Oops. Shouldn’t think that. He takes another drink and frowns. “Wait, whaddya mean close enough? It’s not your real name?”

“My friends call me Danchou, but it sounds so formal here,” Chrollo murmurs bashfully. He’s not sure why he feels reluctant to share his name with this Leorio person. It’s probably best to be cautious while the authorities are still trying to identify his fake corpse. And he rather likes Kuro, it’s what Kortopi and Shizuku have taken to calling him recently. It makes him sound like he might be a normal twenty-something instead of a mysterious gang leader. And tonight, under the friendly smile of this bold stranger and the success of the heist, he quite likes the idea of being someone else. Danchou is for the spiders. Chrollo sounds sweetest in Hisoka’s mouth. But Kuro is safe, it’s new, and it’s almost like a secret. And it suits the “cutie” this Leorio is so interested in. He can feel himself blushing and wonders what Hisoka would say. But then Leorio is speaking and he looks and he sounds nothing like Hisoka, which is the most interesting thing Chrollo’s rather fuzzy thoughts can imagine. 

“Danchou,” Leorio says thoughtfully. He shrugs. “I like ‘em both. So, Kuro, what do you for fun, besides hang out alone in dive bars in the middle of the night?”

Chrollo smirks. “Oh, a variety of things. I enjoy reading, of course. And I’ve been collecting some fine art recently, learning a bit about antiques,” he says smoothly. Truthful enough. He remembers the excitement of his earlier fight with the Zoldyck patriarchs and leans forward, feeling warmer. He can see muscles bulging under Leorio’s sleeves and absentmindedly wonders how strong he is. 

“Damn, beauty and brains, huh? Some people have all the luck,” Leorio chuckles. “You go to school around here or something?”

“Hardly! I’m not convinced it would be worth the money,” Chrollo scoffs. He glances down at the college logo on Leorio’s chest and kicks himself internally. “Though I see you—“

“Bah, this shit’s way pricier than it should be,” Leorio snorts. He downs the rest of his drink and slams it on the bar. “Greedy fuckers act like education’s only for the rich bastards of the world, and all the dorms are full of ‘em, trust fund assholes who’ve coasted on daddy’s money their whole lives,” he rants angrily, “and they’re just doing it so they can get richer, get even more fuckin’ money by scamming underprivileged folks out of their life’s savings while they let them die anyways. Med school fucking sucks sometimes.”

Chrollo blinks in shock at the outburst. This lanky stranger certainly has a reasonable hatred of common society’s failings for someone wearing such ill-fitting moccasins. “You’re studying to be a doctor?”

“Just tryna help people,” Leorio grunts, “make sure people don’t die for no reason other than not having enough fuckin’ money, y’know?” He sighs. “Sorry. Guess this has been getting to me.”

“You’re right, though, Leorio,” Chrollo says excitedly. He leans forwards on his elbows with a giddy smile. “Those who take advantage of suffering will surely see hell. Heaven shall be the dominion of the poor and the oppressed, and our society’s reliance on capital will only reproduce the cycles,” he babbles, “wealth is a despicable thing. It poisons the minds of men.”

Leorio snorts and gives him an odd look. “You’re pretty weird, you know that, Kuro? You almost sound like you’re in a cult!” 

“I—well—you seemed like you would understand,” Chrollo says defensively. Oh, goodness, he’s drunk. His cheeks feel warm at the sound of Leorio calling him Kuro. 

“No, I totally get it,” Leorio laughs, “I just haven’t heard that heaven and hell shit since my dad’s funeral. Sounds funny in a place like this.” He glances at the door, wondering if this cute Kuro guy would consider coming home with him. Is it weird to invite a stranger back to Zepile’s apartment? Feels like a bad idea. Also feels like he could finally get laid for the first time in weeks. “Say, Kuro, you live around here?”

“Not exactly,” Chrollo smiles. Interesting. This young man is definitely interesting. He’s not shy in the slightest, nearly as straightforward with his desires as Phinks. Such an attitude usually bodes well for the activities Chrollo is idly imagining will follow. His smile grows a bit wider. “Do you smoke, Leorio?”

“I do,” Leorio says in a low voice. He stands up and nods towards the door. “I’m guessing that means you’d like to bum a cig? I could help with that,” he teases as he starts walking. 

Chrollo leaves a few dollars on the bar and hops down from his stool, shoving his hands into his pockets as he trails after Leorio. His head swims with childish excitement. It’s been a long time since he’s gone home with a stranger without a plan. And it’s been just as long a time since he’s felt so desired. He breaks into the crisp night air and trips over his feet. A long arm darts out to steady him, gripping his elbow just enough for him to sense the incredible strength contained in these large hands. “Oh, thank you,” he breathes. 

“Anytime, Kuro,” Leorio murmurs. “You good? You seems a little drunk,” he grunts as he takes a cigarette in his teeth. He’s swaying. He can feel it.

“Oh, but you seem drunker,” Chrollo titters shyly. Leorio is so much taller standing. He accepts a cigarette and reaches for the lighter. Leorio smirks and palms the back of his head, leaning down to press the burning tip of his cigarette against Chrollo’s until the flame catches. The spider inhales slowly. “That’s quite a flirtatious move,” he teases. He blows the smoke across Leorio’s blushing face and takes another drag. “You pull that on all the boys?”

Leorio grins bashfully and shoves his hands into his pockets as he sucks the smoke into his lungs. “Just the pretty ones,” he chuckles around the cigarette in his mouth. 

“My goodness,” Chrollo laughs, “you certainly come on strong, don’t you?”

“Seems to be working, cause you haven’t told me to fuck off yet,” Leorio winks. He takes a slow drag of his cigarette and absentmindedly glances up at the moon. “Damn, moon’s huge tonight,” he says vaguely.

Chrollo cocks his head and looks up, smiling faintly at the night sky. “Indeed it is, as though there’s nothing at all to mourn,” he murmurs.

Leorio looks askance at him. “You got something to mourn?” 

“Oh, I—“ Chrollo stammers. He straightens his back and smooths his expression. How pathetic to be so vulnerable with this complete stranger. “Don’t we all?”

“Yeah,” Leorio says gruffly. He shrugs. “And I guess a lotta people died tonight, apparently.”

Chrollo smirks. “Oh, did they?”

“You didn’t hear? Those Troupe fuckers went crazy tonight, mowed down half the city and shit, but the mob came out on top in the end, or something. City was a goddamn bloodbath. ‘S why I didn’t go out for a drink earlier,” Leorio shrugs. He blushes a bit. “Though maybe that was some fucked-up luck, huh?”

“Do you feel lucky, Leorio?”

Leorio grins. Kuro is gazing at him through half-lidded eyes, wearing the tiniest smile as though he’s about to share a secret. “Got a cute guy to talk to me for more than five minutes, so, yeah, I’d say I’m having a good night,” Leorio chuckles. 

“Interesting,” Chrollo murmurs. He finishes the cigarette and stubs it out under his heel, leaning against the cold brick of a building. There is something undeniably compelling about this man’s unrelenting honesty. He hardly looks like the type to try to seduce a strange man in a dive bar, but here he is, flirting as though it’s the end of the world. Perhaps it is the end and Chrollo just doesn’t know it yet. He smiles at the ground. “So, Doctor—“

“Pfft, I’m not a doctor yet,” Leorio laughs. 

“Still, you intend to be a healer, do you not?”

“I do, yeah,” Leorio says slowly. He narrows his eyes slightly at a dark bruise visible under the stranger’s shirt. “Say, you good, Kuro? Look like you’ve been in a bit of a fight.”

Chrollo waves his hand dismissively. “What kind of medicine will you practice? Will you be a surgeon? An ophthalmologist? Perhaps a psychiatrist?”

“Ha, ha,” Leorio says drily. He drops the butt of his cigarette and kicks it into the street. “I seem like a therapist to you?”

“You certainly have very kind eyes,” Chrollo murmurs drunkenly. His stomach flips. What is he thinking?! He should go back to the hideout immediately. The others will notice his absence. He doesn’t move.

Leorio blushes at the compliment and scratches the back of his head nervously. “Ah, whatever,” he laughs bashfully, “but nah, probably a pediatrician. I don’t really care what kind as long as I can do it for free, honestly.”

“Mmm, a virtuous attitude indeed,” Chrollo sighs. How amusing it would be to tell this generous soul the true nature of his own pursuits. Would he still be interested in seducing Chrollo if he knew how easy it was for him to take a life? The thief’s body recalls how delightful it had felt to stab a pen into an assassin’s skull earlier that evening and shivers with excitement. “Medicine is so often denied those who need it most,” he says thoughtfully.

“Exactly, yeah,” Leorio says excitedly, “I’ve known way too many good fuckin’ people who didn’t hafta die, y’know? Whole system’s fucked as hell. I’m gonna get as rich as I can, use all of it to make sure normal people get to live normal lives. All these rich bastards know right now is greed and hoarding, all they ever care about is showing off their power. Like, seriously, I’m helping my friends get money for some fuckin’ game, and it’s like, seven  _ billion _ Jenny or something, like who has that kinda cash laying around?! And who the fuck  _ needs _ that much money, anyways?! Ugh!” His hands fly through the air as he rants. He suddenly realizes how much he’s been talking and goes red. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize, you’re completely right,” Chrollo says happily, “though I have to wonder, what do you mean by good and normal people? Are there human beings you would let die under your care, even if they had the money to pay?”

Leorio blinks slowly, caught off guard by the question. He wobbles a bit. “Umm. Hmm. Damn, Kuro, that’s—umm. No. No, I don’t think I could let anyone die,” he mumbles thoughtfully. He shrugs. “But normal people like, just regular folks, the kind that live in the shitty parts of town or the countries nobody cares about, the ones who don’t do shit to anyone else.”

“Interesting. And those who do harm unto others, they are no longer normal to you?”

“Well... dunno,” Leorio shrugs. He rubs his chin and thinks about what he wants to say. Bastards like Hisoka, or those crazy motherfuckers in the Troupe? Nah, they’re not normal. And it would be hard to force himself to help them if they ended up on an operating table in front of him. But then there’s Kurapika, who’s apparently joined the mafia  _ and _ killed a Troupe member, and Killua, who’s  _ definitely _ not normal and has killed more people than he’ll ever know. Leorio shrugs again. “I think people who hurt people can change, and people can have valid, maybe even good reasons to want to hurt others,” he says slowly, “dunno if normal’s all that important to me. And I could probably be pushed to take a life in some situations, maybe, but—well, I dunno, actually. I’d kick the shit out of anyone who messed with my friends, that’s for sure, but I don’t think I could track somebody down for like, vengeance, or whatever. And I’d be a pretty shitty doctor if I tried to play god.” He shifts his weight awkwardly and stares at Kuro, trying to read his expression. 

Chrollo nods thoughtfully. “You’re very honest, Leorio,” he murmurs, “and you’ve given me a lot to think about. So, you would indeed save the life of a killer, then? You believe such lives are still worth something?” 

“Every life is worth something,” Leorio says firmly. He shakes his head, wondering if he really believes that. The guys who killed Kurapika’s clan aren’t worth shit. Then again, he doesn’t know the first thing about them, and he’s done some pretty fucked up things to get money in his past. But no, they’re monsters. But if they’re monsters, isn’t Killua a monster, too, even if he was being mind controlled or whatever? This conversation is giving Leorio a headache. “I dunno man, I think there’s people I’d be really conflicted about saving, but like I said, I’m not god, and I’m not a jury, so it’s not really up to me. I’m just gonna keep my head down and hope I can make somebody’s life a little better. I don’t need to know who they are to stitch ‘em up.” 

“Hmm.” Chrollo shivers slightly. Would Leorio save him if he knew the truth? Why is he even wondering this? He glances over his shoulder and decides to change the subject. “You asked if I live nearby. Do you?”

Leorio grins. “I’m staying around the corner. Why? You tryna come home with me, Kuro?”

“Perhaps,” Chrollo smiles, “though perhaps I am simply telling you it’s time for you to leave.”

“Which is it then? Cause I’d sure like you to come back with me,” Leorio says smoothly. He leans a hand onto the bricks beside the shorter man’s head, smiling flirtatiously down at him. “Though maybe you’ve got too much going on in that pretty little head of yours, trying to trap strangers into debates on Kantian ethics and all that,” he chuckles. 

Chrollo’s breath catches in his throat for a moment as he considers the proposition. This stranger is unexpectedly fascinating, not to mention handsome, and he took his questions seriously rather than shrugging them off like others have in the past. And Chrollo is already quite drunk. And goodness, the hand next to his head is larger than his face, and he hasn’t been touched in over a month, and the big, gentle hands of a doctor might offer some sense of stability. Danchou would never. Chrollo might. Kuro, this new persona, this bold, flirtatious,  _ normal _ man named Kuro, a name so sweet in Leorio’s voice, well, Kuro is already reaching out to take a fistful of Leorio’s shirt. He tilts his head up and pulls Leorio closer, smiling as their lips finally meet. 

Leorio grunts in surprise but recovers quickly, leaning into the sudden kiss with great enthusiasm. Kuro’s mouth is soft and playful. It tastes like tequila and smoke and a hint of blood, all mystery and danger. Leorio’s lips part and then so do the other man’s and then his hand curves around the small of Kuro’s back to press his body closer as he deepens the kiss. 

Chrollo feels Leorio’s short hair in his hands before he notices his arms have traveled up to touch it. His hair is pleasantly spiky, flickering under Chrollo’s fingers like freshly cut grass. The tiny glasses bump against Chrollo’s nose and he can’t help a tiny giggle. “Leorio,” he mumbles against his mouth, “why on earth are you wearing sunglasses at night?”

“Cause they’re sexy,” Leorio laughs. He kisses Kuro again, eager to keep familiarizing himself with the shorter man’s tongue. Kuro softens in his arms as he cards a hand through his shaggy hair. Leorio can feel the back of the headband and he laughs again. “Your own outfit’s pretty weird, y’know,” he teases gently. 

“Oh?” Chrollo pulls back and slips out from under Leorio, smirking at him from a few steps away. “Whatever do you mean, Leorio?”

Leorio laughs and hops off the curb towards him. “Your pants look like you stole them off a runway, and I’m pretty sure your shirt was on fire at some point, but it’s kinda cool. Maybe it’s cause you’re just that hot,” he chuckles boldly. 

“My, my,” Chrollo replies. He gasps as Leorio’s long arm wraps around his waist again, allowing himself to be pulled into another long kiss in the middle of the street. Leorio dips him lower as though they’re dancing and he giddily flings his arms around his neck, feeling like he’s suddenly woken up in one of the cheesy rom-coms Pakunoda loves so much. The thought of his friend makes him smile wider into Leorio’s mouth. She would  _ adore _ this ridiculous student and his passionate defense of the poor, and she’d certainly be excited that Chrollo was finally spending time with someone other than Hisoka. He can also picture Machi tossing out snide, lewd comments about how easily he’s been swept off his feet. Leorio’s hand slides lower on his back and Chrollo hums a tiny noise. “Leorio,” he breathes, “are we going somewhere, or should we just step out of the street?”

“C’mon, Kuro, I’m classier than that,” Leorio chuckles. He takes a hand from behind his neck and intertwines their fingers as he turns towards Zepile’s building, beaming drunkenly at the dark city. “Let’s go.” 

——————

_ At the heart of all beauty lies something inhuman. _

_ Albert Camus. _

——————


	2. Senselessness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Pisces and a Scorpio climb into bed together.

_ To be happy, we must not be too concerned with others. _

_ Albert Camus. _

——————

The elevator doors close and Chrollo grabs Leorio again, kissing him hungrily with his fists anchored in his shirt. The tall man grins into his lips and then their tongues are melting together and Chrollo moans softly,  _ far _ more excited than he ever meant to be. Kissing Leorio is just so  _ different _ from Hisoka. His big, strong hands cradle Chrollo’s body close as though he’s the most delicate thing in the world, but his stubbly mouth is just as hungry as Chrollo’s own, and he smells like expensive cologne and dark liquors. Hisoka would’ve pulled Chrollo into an alley and spilled into his mouth in the time it took to walk to this building. But Leorio’s hand is still hovering politely at Chrollo’s hip, somehow gentle even as it pulls him closer to grind him against the stiffening mound between Leorio’s muscular legs. Chrollo gasps as he feels the outline of a surprisingly large cock rub against him. His body was already warm and eager, but now the base of his spine feels as though it’s caught fire, burning with an unexpected mix of desire and greed. He palms a hand around Leorio’s tan neck and tugs him deeper into the kiss. 

A sharp ding makes Chrollo’s eyes pop open but Leorio pulls back slowly, leaving an arm around his waist as he guides him out of the elevator. “You’re a damn good kisser,” he chuckles excitedly, “you go home with strangers all the time?”

“Hardly,” Chrollo titters bashfully. He wants to tell Leorio that he’s a good kisser, too. But that’s far too much praise so soon into touching this person. He can feel color rising in his cheeks and he leans into Leorio’s warm arms, dizzy from his own recklessness this evening. “I’m not much for one night stands,” he admits before he can stop himself, “I’m more accustomed to the questionable choice of sleeping with close friends.” 

Leorio laughs at this and squeezes Chrollo’s slender hips. “Fuck, that’s too real,” he laughs. He pauses in front of the door and gives Chrollo a conspiratorial wink. “We gotta be careful, Kuro, everyone else is sleeping,” he murmurs playfully.

“Oh, dear,” Chrollo whispers, “well, I’ll do my best not to wake them up.” Disappointing. He’d rather hoped to get fucked hard enough that he wouldn’t be able to think, and he needed to scream, but he can manage. He squeaks slightly when Leorio’s long fingers dip into his back pocket. Maybe he is more like Hisoka than Chrollo initially thought. 

Leorio holds a finger to his lips and opens the door slowly, peeking inside just to make sure Gon and Killua haven’t decided to have some kind of late-night movie marathon again. The apartment is dark. He grins and tugs Kuro inside. “Let’s go. Third room back.” 

Chrollo blushes as Leorio takes his hand and draws him down the dark hallway. He’s relieved he made the bold decision to prepare himself before winding up in that bar. He really had gone out intending to get fucked. So unlike him. Hisoka would be shocked, though he would certainly approve. Leorio’s strong hand squeezes Chrollo gently as he opens a door. The wood creaks loudly and Chrollo tenses.

“‘S fine, the kids seem like they’re out cold,” Leorio whispers.

Chrollo stares at him in surprise. “I’m sorry, you have children?!”

“Oh, no,” Leorio laughs quietly, “nah, they’re my friends, they’re just like, thirteen. Long story.” 

“Oh, understandable,” Chrollo giggles. He squeezes Leorio’s hand again, entranced by how warm it is. “I have a dear friend who is also quite young,” he whispers. He wonders if Kortopi would get along with Leorio. The youngest member of the Troupe is so shy, but he might be intrigued by someone this unflappably charming. Chrollo blinks as Leorio lights a candle. The room is shabby, just a few rickety pieces of furniture and a closet that seems to have lost its door many years ago, with only an open briefcase and a few scattered articles of clothing to indicate Leorio’s presence. Odd. He would’ve expected a college student with so many opinions to have posters and photographs and other personal effects. “Leorio, do you even live here?”

“Nope,” Leorio whispers conspiratorially, “just in town to see some friends. So let’s definitely be quiet, alright? Don’t need them knowing how much of a shitty perv I am.” He chuckles darkly and sits on the edge of the bed, tugging Chrollo’s waist closer. “Mmm, you’re a lot stronger than you look,” he mumbles drunkenly. “So cute, though.”

Chrollo giggles nervously. “Whatever does that mean?”

“Dunno, you just feel kinda fragile around all these muscles,” Leorio murmurs. He reaches into Kuro’s soft, dark hair once more, slowly pulling him down into a kiss. The other man smiles into his mouth and drapes his arms around his neck. 

“You think I seem fragile?”

“I think you’ve got a lot more going on than I’m gonna find out tonight,” Leorio teases, “and I already know you’re softer than you’ve been trying to look.” 

Chrollo leans back, slightly irritated by the accuracy of Leorio’s observations. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, you’ve got your whole ‘mysterious philosopher who’s just been in a fight’ thing going on, but you like being kissed all slow and romantic,” Leorio mumbles, trying to pull Kuro closer again. His dick is already surprisingly hard for how much he’s had to drink. He grins up at Kuro’s annoyed expression. “What? I say something wrong?”

“Not... exactly,” Chrollo says slowly. He frowns. How is any of this romantic? They met less than half an hour ago. “You’re very odd, Leorio. I’m not sure I quite understand what you’re after,” he murmurs inquisitively. A large hand palms his ass and he inhales sharply. “Well.”

Leorio’s grin grows even wider. “Don’t tell me I’ve misunderstood why you came back here, Kuro,” he slurs, “cause I’m a real loser when I’m sad.”

“You would be sad if I didn’t sleep with you?”

“Duh, you’re super hot,” Leorio chuckles. He slides his hand up to the small of Kuro’s back and presses down. The spine arches ever so slightly under his hand. “But I’m not into pressuring you,” he adds thoughtfully, “I’m fine if you just wanna make out a bit.” 

Chrollo chews the inside of his lip, intrigued by this sudden politeness. What kind of person takes home a stranger just to kiss them? It’s preposterous. The hand on his back is so warm. Kant  _ did _ say that all knowledge begins with the senses. He leans in again and kisses Leorio deeply, pressing a tentative hand against one of his powerful shoulders in a shy attempt to lean him back on the bed. Leorio’s smile knocks their teeth together as he follows Chrollo’s lead. The grating squeak of ancient springs plays under their bodies as Chrollo crawls after him, running eager hands through his short hair as his legs climb onto the mattress around Leorio’s hips. He gasps when Leorio’s hand travels onto his ass again. Alcohol buzzes excitedly in his brain. He nips playfully at the student’s lips. 

“Mmm, come closer,” Leorio breathes. He holds Kuro’s annoyingly perfect ass in both hands and tugs it down, grinding into him as the shorter man emits a tiny noise into his mouth. This is fucking awesome. It’s been way too long since he’s had another person in his hands, and his body is keyed up with lust at the thought of finally getting off in a way that doesn’t involve his own hands and a rushed encounter with a toilet. The soft mouth slides away from his own and plants a kiss below his ear. A small hand slips under his shirt and he grins. “Oh, so you do wanna do more than make out?”

“Oh, definitely,” Chrollo purrs into his neck. He runs his hand up the long, muscular torso, entranced by how hard and powerful Leorio feels under his clothes. He allows the tall man to lower his hips again and rolls to the side, kissing him hungrily. A big hand pulls his leg around Leorio’s waist and he lets out a soft moan as he feels that enticing mound grind into him again. The zipper of Leorio’s pants rubs delightfully against his own hardness. Chrollo dips back to his neck, sucking a small hickey down at the crook of his shoulder. His fingers clutch the stiff fabric of Leorio’s blazer tightly when he hears a low moan. “Take this off,” he breathes, “now.” 

“Roger that,” Leorio rumbles. He tosses the jacket to the side and quickly strips out of his shirt before falling back into Kuro’s waiting arms and kissing him deeply. Their mouths fit together so naturally. He reaches for the front of Kuro’s dress shirt and grins as the smaller man sighs excitedly into his mouth, undoing each button as slowly as he can to prolong the slight jolts of arousal bouncing up into him. When the shirt falls open, there’s just enough light for Leorio to see all of the bruises and other injuries marring Kuro’s pale skin. He frowns. “You sure you’re not hurt?”

Chrollo laughs delicately and places a palm over Leorio’s heart. Such a steady rhythm. “I’m fine, Leorio, I already had a friend treat the worst of it.” He hums appreciatively as his eyes trace the huge muscles in the other’s arms and chest. “What business does a med student have with all of this strength, hmm?”

“That’s another long story,” Leorio chuckles, “but I guess it’s worth mentioning that I’m technically a Hunter, if only to impress you.” He leans down again but Kuro ducks back, looking shocked. “What?”

“A Hunter? Really? Then what do you hunt?”

“Pfft, money, I guess,” Leorio sighs. He twirls a lock of black hair around his finger and smirks. “And hotties. Dunno. Just took the exam so I could afford med school, honestly.”

Chrollo ponders this for a moment. A Hunter. How odd. He idly wonders if this stranger happened to take the exam alongside Hisoka. What a frightening coincidence that would be. He shrugs and tugs Leorio closer again. “Mm, intriguing,” he breathes into his neck, “tell me, doctor, what is your star sign?”

“My huh?” Leorio snorts and rolls to the side. “Seriously? You wanna talk astrology, right now?”

“Just curious,” Chrollo murmurs. He trails a finger down the dark strip of Leorio’s happy trail absentmindedly. “I happen to be a Scorpio.”

Leorio laughs louder than he should and smothers his mouth. “Sorry,” he whispers, “but man, that doesn’t surprise me at all. I’m a Pisces, whatever that’s worth.” He palms the other man’s ass greedily. “Those compatible or something?”

“Indeed they are,” Chrollo murmurs. Of  _ course _ he’s a Pisces, the sentimental bastard. Leorio’s hand pulls him closer and he sighs happily as he presses his palm against his warm skin. A long leg slips between his own and he smiles into Leorio’s mouth, enjoying how very large and strong his body feels. It’s an unusual strength: though he could obviously snap Chrollo’s spine in an instant, Chrollo can’t sense even the faintest hint of danger, as though these muscles would never be used to harm another person. He remembers what Leorio said earlier and frowns slightly. Who does he think he is, sleeping with such a gentle creature?

“Hey, Kuro,” Leorio murmurs after a moment, “how do you like to be touched?”

“Sorry, I—what kind of question is that?”

Leorio shrugs and fingers the knot at the back of the headband. “A genuine one. Everybody’s got their things,” he says quietly.

Chrollo blinks slowly, still thrown off by the inquiry. How would he  _ like _ to be touched? He just wants to keep feeling Leorio’s hands on his body; the details hardly matter. “I... don’t think anyone’s asked me that before,” he whispers after a long pause. He stares at his hand on Leorio’s chest, noticing for the first time how pale he seems in comparison. A memory of Hisoka’s laughter plays in his ears and he frowns. Hisoka would already be inside him by now, already taunting Chrollo by calling him a desperate little slut and asking what the other Spiders would think if they could see him begging for his cock. “Does it matter what I like?”

“Does it—“ Leorio jerks back and grabs both of Kuro’s shoulders, searching his eyes. “What kind of fucked up assholes have you been banging, Kuro?! Jesus Christ,” he snaps. The smaller man’s eyes are wide and Leorio freezes. “Sorry,” he whispers, “sorry, I just—that’s bullshit.” He tenderly tucks a stray lock of hair behind a small ear and smiles nervously, hoping he hasn’t fucked up too badly. 

“You are an unbearably kind person, Leorio,” Chrollo sighs. That’s the best descriptor he’s found all night. Leorio is  _ unbearably _ kind, so warm and gentle and caring for absolutely no reason that it makes Chrollo feel rather ill. He shoves him back and rolls on top of him, grinding his hips in a slow circle. “But I didn’t come here to be analyzed, you know,” he purrs as a grin spreads across Leorio’s face. 

Leorio smirks and grabs Kuro’s waist, sitting up to kiss him as he tugs him lower. “Then why don’t we get you out of these pants?”

“Excellent—oh!” Chrollo gasps as Leorio pulls him across his lap again, thrilled by how easily the large student has switched back to being horny. A hand slides under his shirt and tosses it to the floor. He’s on his back suddenly, soft lips trailing down his stomach, and he stifles a giggle as Leorio fumbles with the buttons. His pants are on the floor in another second. Leorio’s mouth lands back on his and Chrollo sighs into the kiss as he tugs at the tall man’s belt and undoes his zipper, slipping his fingers into the front of his boxers without waiting for the pants to be fully removed. 

Leorio moans as a slender hand flutters over his dick. He shucks his pants off and dives down to kiss Kuro’s neck, smirking to himself when the attention earns a delicate noise. He tucks a leg through Kuro’s and hooks them closer, grinding their hips together as the hand between his legs gives him an experimental squeeze. His mouth travels lower. He crosses a thin collarbone and a firm pectoral before pausing at a pert nipple and sucking it into his lips, earning another tiny noise from the stranger. He sends his hand down ahead of his mouth and palms Kuro’s cock over his briefs, rubbing it carefully. 

“L-Leorio,” Chrollo stammers quietly, “I—I can’t reach you anymore, you’ll have to come back.” He squeezes his eyes shut as a low chuckle reverberates in his stomach. Leorio just continues kissing his body slowly, treating Chrollo as though he’s divinely beautiful. All of this attention on him is unnecessary; it’s not as though he deserves to be worshipped by this kind-hearted stranger. He grabs a fistful of short black hair and yanks Leorio up roughly. “Why don’t I suck your cock instead, Doctor?”

“See, this is why I ask how people like to be touched,” Leorio whines, “cause I can’t tell what’ll turn you off!”

“I’m hardly turned off,” Chrollo laughs, “I’d just like to get fucked sooner rather than later.” He blushes slightly at how desperate he sounds. “So—“

Leorio grins and cuts him off with an aggressive kiss. “Then why didn’t you say so, Kuro?” He reaches blindly for his bedside table and opens the drawer, taking out a bottle of lube as he slides his other hand under Kuro’s waistband. “You should take these off if you  _ need _ to get fucked so badly,” he teases.

“I don’t  _ need _ anything from you,” Chrollo snaps defensively. He bites back a sharp moan as Leorio’s fingers wrap around his cock. The student wiggles his eyebrows playfully and Chrollo scowls at him. “What? I don’t.” 

“You want it though,” Leorio murmurs as he slowly drags the briefs away. He leans down to kiss Kuro’s neck again, smirking at the noises he tries to stifle as Leorio’s hand strokes him. “You want it bad, Kuro, you’re not even trying to hide it,” he breathes in his ear. 

Chrollo is too drunk and too aroused to come up with a good retort. “Oh, shut up,” he mumbles angrily, “you’re the one who tried to seduce me.” He tilts his head towards Leorio’s mouth but the student is already moving. His head falls back to the pillow with a frustrated sigh. 

“Tried? Damn, guess I struck out,” Leorio chuckles. He pours lube into his hand and leans down to kiss the other man slowly, smiling against his soft lips. “You’re kinda cute when you’re mad, by the way,” he teases as he slides a hand between Kuro’s legs, “but I’ll stop teasing. You’re damn right I wanna fuck you, Kuro.” 

“You—ah,” Chrollo gasps as he feels a cold finger press against his entrance. He rolls into Leorio’s chest and tosses a leg over his hips, tugging him into a rough kiss. A pathetic moan escapes his throat as the first knuckle pushes inside him. The finger slides deeper and he moans again, clutching at Leorio’s short hair to steady himself. It has been a  _ long _ month without anyone to hold him. Leorio’s grin knocks into his next gasp and he rocks his hips down, eager for more. 

Leorio twists his finger slowly as he uncurls it, forcing himself to go slower than his alcohol-soaked hormones would like to go. Kuro’s teeth come down on his lip when he presses into his prostate. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” Chrollo whines. He can’t stand how desperate he sounds. He reaches blindly for Leorio’s cock, wanting to do something useful. The finger inside him moves a bit faster and he ducks his head into a strong shoulder to stifle the noise his body wants to make. “Oh, m-more, please,” he gasps. 

“Yer fuckin’ tight,” Leorio mumbles. He grabs the back of Kuro’s head and kisses him again, swallowing a low moan as he thrusts his hand harder. The knot of the headband rests awkwardly in his palm and he breaks away. “Say, Kuro—“

“I said more,” Chrollo hisses. He digs his nails into Leorio’s scalp as the student chuckles and draws his hand back. Two thick fingers slowly push inside him and his mouth falls open with a low, hungry sound. Leorio’s lips are on his neck again when he manages to open his eyes. “I—I’m sorry,” he gasps, “Leorio, you were—“

Leorio shakes his head and grins as he shoves his fingers deeper. The motion cuts Kuro off with a sharp mewl. “I like pretty boys who know what they want,” he murmurs against his soft neck, “don’t apologize to me, baby.”

“Mmph,” Chrollo grunts quietly. His eyes squeeze shut again and he raises the hip wrapped around Leorio, trying to ease the pressure inside him. “I, I’m not your baby,” he laughs breathlessly. 

“Hmm,” Leorio hums thoughtfully. He kneels back and angles his wrist up, smirking as Kuro’s body arches off the bed. “Sorry, babe, but you’re fucking a drunk, cheesy bastard, and I only have so many sexy things I know how to say,” he chuckles. He grabs a slender thigh and pushes it up to Kuro’s chest, grinding his erection against his leg as his hand dives deeper. 

“Oh, oh god,” Chrollo moans. He wraps his fingers through the sheets and bites down on his lip. The fingers inside of him twist and spread apart, brushing up against his prostate just enough to make him moan again. A big hand comes down on his mouth and his eyes fly open. “Mmph?!”

“We gotta be quiet,” Leorio whispers nervously. His eyes are glued to the door, but he keeps moving his hand. “Fucking sucks, cause your voice is sexy as hell,” he adds as Kuro makes a noise against his palm. 

Chrollo’s toes curl as Leorio’s hand thrusts in and out of him. Not even Hisoka has ever dared to call him ‘baby’ in bed. It’s unacceptably enticing in Leorio’s low rumble. He whimpers as the hand pulls back, only to let out a sharp shriek into the hand smothering his mouth when three fingers slowly press into him. “MMPH! Mm, mmhmm!”

“You like that?” Leorio grins down at Kuro again, satisfied that they haven’t woken anybody up yet. “God, you’re cute,” he gasps, feeling as though he’s seeing him for the first time. There’s barely enough light to see the huge blue globes hanging from Kuro’s ears, but he can make out enough of his lusty eyes to feel his own dick twitch excitedly. He removes his hand from the smaller man’s mouth and kisses him hungrily, running his fingers through his long, dark hair to tug him closer as he maintains his slow pace. “You like it, don’t you, baby? Like, ugh,” he whispers drunkenly, “like getting this tight little hole pounded, huh?”

“If, if this is what you call pounded,” Chrollo teases breathlessly, “that’s rather disappointing.” Leorio kisses him just in time to smother the loud shriek he makes when the hand thrusting into him speeds up. He can feel Leorio’s hard cock grinding against his legs, but he’s too entranced by the feeling of his powerful shoulders under his hands to do anything about it. “You, you taste so drunk, Leorio,” he giggles quietly, “or is that my own tongue?”

Leorio buries an amused snort in the pile of shaggy hair on his pillow. “You’re really fuckin’ cute, you know that? And fuck if I know, everything tastes like booze,” he mumbles happily. Kuro arches into him again as he carefully curls his fingers. “Oh! Did, uh, you want this headband thing on still? I’m worried I’ll fuck it up,” he whispers in Kuro’s ear. 

Chrollo squeezes his eyes shut with a soft whimper and tries to make himself focus. Unveiling the tattoo will raise too many questions, but he’d love to feel these huge hands really tugging at his hair. He gasps as Leorio’s mouth sucks gently at his neck. “Oh, fuck it,” he breathes, “just don’t ask, okay?”

“Huh?” Leorio pulls back, baffled at the request. He blinks drunkenly as Kuro undoes the bandana and reveals a bizarre cross tattooed at the center of his forehead. “Kay, that’s weird,” he mumbles, “but sure, not asking. Sure.” He kisses him again and tries to forget about it by thrusting his hand faster. Kuro’s delicate hands crawl through his hair and his long legs wrap tightly around Leorio and his warm mouth sucks him closer until Leorio is sure that he’ll explode if he doesn’t do something with his cock soon. He grunts and rolls their bodies towards the edge of the bed. Kuro squeaks and clutches him tightly. “Just grabbing a condom,” he whispers.

“Oh, wonderful,” Chrollo sighs. He whimpers softly as Leorio’s hand leaves his body, draping his own arms above his head as he waits. The tall student’s long, muscular back faces him in the dark and he smiles drunkenly. He still can’t believe he’s doing this: sleeping with a complete stranger, even letting him call him baby, while the rest of the Troupe celebrates their enormous success. It hardly matters what they would think, though. He’ll be asking everyone to scatter again tomorrow. Might as well let himself have a bit of fun for once. Chrollo absentmindedly strokes a hand down Leorio’s broad shoulders, humming happily to himself. The student grins over his shoulder. 

“Liking the view?” Leorio flexes his arms as he turns around and crawls back onto the bed.

Chrollo smirks. “I certainly am,” he whispers playfully. Leorio kisses him again and he wraps his arms around his neck, feeling for all the world like an overexcited virgin. The slick tip of his cock presses into Chrollo’s hole and he gasps, tucking his chin to his chest as Leorio pushes his legs further apart. “Th-that’s, aha, oh my,” he gasps as quietly as he can. Leorio grunts softly in his ear and slides a bit deeper. “MMPH!”

“Shhh, you gotta stay quiet,” Leorio mumbles thickly. He’s halfway reminding himself—the feeling of warm, taut muscles enveloping his cock is even better than he remembers. He groans through his teeth as he rocks his hips closer. “Fuck,” he gasps, “fuck, you’re tight.”

“Nnnn,” Chrollo whimpers vaguely. He clutches Leorio’s arms tightly and bites down hard on his lip as he feels his cock slowly move back and forth. He hadn’t realized Leorio’s cock would be bigger than Hisoka’s. The tiny twinge of pain is easily ignored, though, especially with the view of the broad, muscular chest gliding over his head. He covers his mouth with a hand as his back arches up. He’s afraid to ask if the whole thing is inside yet, afraid he’ll sound like a stupid little virgin. So instead he just moans, as quietly as he can, and curls his legs higher to grant Leorio better access. 

Nails dig into Leorio’s shoulder and he groans a low curse, still trying to move slowly. Kuro whimpers under him again. He bends down to kiss him, moaning into his mouth when their tongues slip together. He takes a handful of one of Kuro’s sculpted hips and drags it closer, thrusting almost all of his cock into him. Kuro bites down hard on his lip in an attempt to stifle the high-pitched noise he makes. Leorio grunts and thrusts forwards again, eager to really fuck him. He grabs the back of a knee and shoves it up as high as it will go. “Fuck, fuck,” he groans into Kuro’s mouth, “oh, fuck, that’s good!”

Chrollo whines desperately as more of Leorio’s cock fills him. His hands are ridiculously strong around his legs, moving Chrollo’s body around as easily as one might shift a blanket. His hips rock into Chrollo faster and the spider moans as he realizes it’s been even longer than he remembered since he was last fucked. The last time he saw Hisoka all he got was a half-hearted blowjob and a load on his face. He yanks Leorio into a rough kiss and rolls their bodies until he’s on top, pulling back to lower himself slowly onto his huge cock. “Ohhh, god,” Chrollo moans, “oh, wow, Leorio!” He carefully raises his hips before sinking back down, throwing his head back in ecstasy as he finally feels Leorio’s thighs meeting his own. “Oh, god, oh,” he repeats breathlessly, “Leo, I, oh.” 

“Fuck,” Leorio grunts. He resists the urge to kiss Kuro in favor of watching him ride his cock, struck dumb by how beautiful his body is in the flickering candlelight. He’s all rippling muscles and pretty features. It looks like he has more tattoos that Leorio can’t quite make out. Leorio watches his own hands land on the other man’s rocking hips and grins as he remembers how to use them, pulling Kuro back and forth a bit faster. “Oh, fuck, yeah,” he gasps, “Jesus, fuck, you’re good at this!”

Chrollo laughs breathlessly as Leorio’s cock strokes effortlessly against his prostate. “You, you feel, v-very good,” he whispers shyly, closing his eyes as though it’ll stop him from blushing. “Mmm! Mmhmm, mm, Leorio!” 

“Oh, yeah?” Leorio grins and bucks his hips up to meet Kuro’s rhythm, earning a thrilled yelp and the sight of the other man falling backwards until his hands land on Leorio’s thighs. Kuro’s legs spread wider around Leorio’s waist and he bounces faster, moaning happily as he fucks himself. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” Leorio whines. 

“I, I need you to fuck me,” Chrollo moans suddenly. His eyes fly open and he covers his mouth, realizing he’s completely forgotten about staying quiet. “Leorio, I’m—I’m terribly drunk,” he giggles nervously. 

Leorio smiles at him and sits up, wrapping his arms around his delicate frame. “Too drunk? Or do you  _ need _ me to fuck you, Kuro?” Slim legs slide around his waist and before he can ask again there’s a tongue in his mouth and he’s moaning, rocking Kuro’s hips up and down on his cock while he thrusts into him. 

“Oh, oh, more,” Chrollo gasps softly, “more, please, Leorio, please, I need—“

“I gotchu, babe, no need to beg,” Leorio chuckles. Their mouths melt back together as he rolls their bodies down to the bed and shoves his cock deeper. Kuro moans loudly and he covers his mouth with a hand. “Gotta be quiet, Kuro,” he teases as he rocks his hips, “or I won’t be able to keep fucking you.”

“Mmmm,” Chrollo moans into his hand. Leorio’s palm is so big it could easily smother his entire face. His eyes roll back as Leorio starts to rut into him faster. “Mmmph!” 

“Yeah, babe, you like that?” Leorio grunts as he speeds up, leaning on his free hand to keep himself balanced. Sweat rolls down his neck and he grins down at the strange tattoo on Kuro’s forehead, laughing giddily as it shakes with each thrust. “God, you’re so fuckin’ sexy, Kuro, this is great,” he chuckles breathlessly, “fuck, who’d a thought this, this cute little nerd, might take cock so well, huh? Fuck!” 

“Mmmph, mmmmnngghh,” Chrollo groans. Each stroke somehow goes directly into his prostate, and each low, breathy growl from Leorio seems to be going straight to his dick. A confused amusement tickles the back of his mind at the idea that Leorio pegged him as a “nerd.” The thought swiftly flies away with the next slap of powerful thighs against his ass. Chrollo clutches the sheets and curls his spine, trying to take as much as he can. Leorio’s sweaty palm slides away from his mouth and lands in his hair and then it tugs him into a sloppy kiss and he moans, reaching up to feel the larger man’s neck again. “Leorio,” he gasps, “Leorio, yes!” 

“Why the hell are you so cute,” Leorio groans. He ducks his head into Kuro’s shoulder and slows down a bit, wanting to feel the smaller man’s body shake with each long plunge. The hands behind his head paw desperately at his skin. “Yeah, babe?”

“Oh, j-just like th-this,” Chrollo whimpers as his head crashes back against the pillow. He bites the back of his hand to stifle a loud moan as Leorio leans back and spreads his legs apart. “Please, don’t stop,” he manages to whisper, “please, Leorio, I—oh, oh!”

Leorio grins and shakes his head. “Now why the hell would I stop fucking you, Kuro? You think I got something better to do?” He grunts as the muscles around his cock clench and suck him closer. “Fuck, I needed this,” he moans softly. He grabs Kuro’s ass with both hands and lifts it up for better access, clutching the soft flesh tightly as his cock slowly pushes in and out of the warm hole. “Did, did I already say you’re hot? You’re really hot,” he groans. 

“Mmmm, mm-mm, mm-mm, mmph,” Chrollo moans vaguely. Leorio’s hands are still so gentle, even as they grab and pull and tug at him, and his voice is so sweet, and his cock is just ridiculously good. It’s nothing like being with Hisoka. He can actually breathe, for one thing, and he’s not restrained or tormented in any way. So  _ this _ is how normal twenty-somethings have sex, he marvels drunkenly, they just fuck each other, in beds, as though they actually want the other person to enjoy it. Whenever he looks down he sees something that seems far too large sliding in and out of his body with ease. His cock wiggles excitedly and a dollop of precum drips onto his stomach. Chrollo’s hand fall above his head and he swipes sweaty hair off of his forehead with a lazy smile. “You, you’re too good, to me, Leorio,” he pants, “d-doing everything, foh, fucking, fucking me j-JUST, OH, oh, how I NEED, AH!” His back jumps off the bed halfway through his sentence and he moans far too loudly, but Leorio doesn’t bother silencing him, just gazes down at him with this expression like Chrollo is the most incredible thing he’s seen in his entire life. The bandit suddenly feels cornered. He reaches for Leorio’s face and tries to kiss him again, disturbed by how visible he’s allowed himself to become. 

“Oh, so you did need it, hmm?” Leorio teases as he palms Kuro’s sides. He’s careful to avoid the dark bruises as he toys with his nipples, grinning wildly at the spasm this sends through the other man’s thighs. He grunts and slows to a stop, burying his cock deep inside Kuro’s ass. “Hmm? Kuro?”

“Wh-what?”

“Just wondering,” Leorio drawls playfully, “you still think you don’t  _ need _ anything from me?”

Chrollo tries to scowl but it breaks into a bashful giggle. “You’re so bold, Leorio,” he whispers, “what on earth is wrong with you?”

“Ah, c’mon, just say it.”

“Say what?”

Leorio smirks and grabs a fistful of black hair, tilting Kuro’s head back so he can kiss his neck. “Say you need this cock, baby, say you need to get fucked, huh?”

“Mmmm, oh,” Chrollo sighs. He wriggles his hips slightly, trying to somehow take Leorio’s cock even deeper as his wet mouth sinks into his skin. He  _ does _ need to be fucked. He’d sooner leave than admit such a thing. “You’re ridiculous,” he chides. 

“Am I?”

“Yes!” Chrollo laughs as Leorio grins and kisses him, bemused by how easily the student gave up his attempt at being dominant. His laugh squeaks into a shocked yelp as Leorio thrusts roughly into him. “Oh, yes,” he sighs, “Leorio—“

Leorio chuckles and slides his fingers through one of the hands grasping at nothing above Kuro’s head. “You’re too cute to tease, Kuro,” he whispers, “and I’m too drunk not to keep fucking you.” He kisses him deeply as their fingers intertwine, rocking his hips forward until Kuro’s legs climb up around his waist. A soft moan slips into his mouth and he returns it in kind. He feels as though he could fuck this mysterious stranger every day and never get bored of him, maybe even finally get over his latent crush on Kurapika if he had the chance. Kuro’s hand squeezes his tightly and he smiles against his lips.

“Mmhmm,” Chrollo whimpers into Leorio’s mouth. He can’t remember ever being held so tenderly. Strong hands steady him with gentle certainty, wrapping through his fingers and around his waist to hold him close. His own hand feels as though it’s found its purpose in cradling Leorio’s rough grasp. Each tiny breath of the name “Kuro” sends a shiver down his spine. Is it wrong to be kissing this man so intensely when he doesn’t even know his real name? Chrollo imagines for a moment the life of “Kuro,” of a version of himself cut loose from the responsibilities and excitement of leading the Phantom Troupe. He moans as Leorio’s cock rams into him harder. Leorio’s tongue still carries the faintest taste of whisky, a reminder that they only met this very night, all because Chrollo set out on his own to pretend to be someone else. Perhaps Kuro would go home with a different stranger each night. Then again, maybe Kuro would become attached to Leorio, to this powerful, gentle giant and his warm hands and his big cock and his silly smile. Chrollo whimpers slightly as Leorio’s hand grips his wrist. He already misses the feeling of their fingers intertwined. Leorio grunts in his ear and Chrollo’s eyes fly open as some confused neurons deep in his alcohol-soaked brain attempt to convince him that he’s just heard Uvogin’s voice, and then he is gasping for air, gulping down harsh, ragged breaths as the fact that Uvo really is dead suddenly hits him like a freight train. 

Leorio moans softly into Kuro’s neck as he fucks him, completely entranced by how delicate yet powerful his body feels. The shag of black hair suddenly ducks into his shoulder with a noise that could either be a delighted moan or a terrified sob. He squints in confusion and slows down, leaning back on his hands to look down at the other man. His mouth drops open. “Are—“

“Please, don’t stop,” Chrollo whimpers. He rubs an arm across his red eyes and tries to force a smile. “Please, Leorio, I just—ignore me.” 

“Kuro,” Leorio says sadly, “did I hurt you?”

“Nothing of the sort,” Chrollo gasps, “I just—just a stray memory, forgive me.” His stomach feels like it’s trying to climb up his throat as Leorio’s face collapses into concerned pity. “Please,” he whispers. He rolls his hips down and tries to push Leorio onto his back, intending to finish what they started.

Leorio pulls out slowly and takes one of Kuro’s hands, kissing it gently. “Look, I know we just met, but you can tell me whatever it is, alright? I’m not super comfortable continuing when you’re crying,” he says quietly.

Chrollo clenches his jaw in distress. This is just  _ terrible. _ He already cried once today; it’s positively pathetic to be so affected right now. He swallows hard and leans in, trying to kiss Leorio again. The student leans away. 

“You know crying is good for you, right? If you’ve got something worth crying about, you gotta let your body do it,” Leorio whispers.

Chrollo exhales an exasperated sigh. It wobbles halfway up his throat and is chased by a sad little sound, almost like a bird being shot a mile away. He ducks his face into Leorio’s chest and lets a few more tears fall as big arms wrap around him. It’s somehow made worse by the affection: he can’t recall the last time someone hugged him, and he certainly hasn’t broken down like this in what feels like years. But here he is, drunk and horny and crying in a stranger’s bed, a picture Hisoka would surely pay any price to see. Leorio’s gentle hands stroke through his hair reassuringly and Chrollo shudders. He can still feel the medical student’s erection poking against his thighs. “Leorio,” he finally whispers, “truly, what on earth is wrong with you?”

“Wrong with  _ me?! _ Pfft,” Leorio laughs. He squeezes Kuro tightly and kisses the top of his head. “You’re the one crying, Kuro.”

“And you’re  _ comforting _ me, as though you have a responsibility to do so,” Chrollo retorts quietly. He presses a hand to Leorio’s broad chest and pushes away, scooting back a few inches so he can see his face. Leorio’s expression is remarkably calm in the dim candlelight, caring and concerned without any hints of pity or judgement. “I’m a stranger,” Chrollo continues, “who just started crying in the middle of sex. That doesn’t bother you?”

Leorio shrugs and takes his hand again, slowly lacing their fingers together. “Not really. People cry all the time,” he murmurs, “and I’ve totally cried during hookups before, so, I know how weird you must feel right now.” He gives Kuro a patient smile and rubs his face sleepily against his pillow. “You wanna tell me about that memory, or do you wanna talk about something else?”

Chrollo blinks back more tears. This Leorio person is clearly completely insane. He swallows the lump in his throat again and shakes his head as he stares at their intertwined fingers. “I... I’m not sure, honestly,” he whispers hoarsely, “though... maybe I should discuss it at some point. But I don’t intend to burden you with my troubles, Leorio, really, I’d rather we just—“

“Wanna hear about the first time I cried during sex? It’s really embarrassing,” Leorio chuckles conspiratorially. He grins at the shock in Kuro’s face. “Well?”

“Why not,” Chrollo murmurs. He can’t even begin to fathom what goes through this man’s mind, but maybe it will be interesting to find out. 

Leorio sighs and rolls his eyes. “This was two years ago. I finally got this girl from my neighborhood to go out with me, and we smoked a ton of weed, and we got back to her place, and right as she started sucking my dick I looked out the window and saw this bird flying across a rainbow and I just started crying cause it was all so beautiful and magical and I got worried my life would never be better than it was in that moment,” he laughs bashfully. He squeezes Kuro’s hand and winks at him. “She was so freaked out. She basically never talked to me again.” 

“How can you share such a thing so casually?”

“Cause it’s kinda hilarious, dude,” Leorio whispers. He pokes Kuro’s stomach playfully, trying to get him to smile. “C’mon, you didn’t think it was funny? It’s so stupid!”

“It is very stupid,” Chrollo agrees. He stifles a small snort as Leorio stick out his tongue. “I... my apologies, Leorio,” he says stiffly, “it was an amusing story. Can we please continue now?”

Leorio frowns at him and gently strokes his thumb around his hand. “Umm... Kuro, can I ask you something?”

“I may not answer,” Chrollo warns quietly. 

“That’s fine. Earlier, when you said the moon didn’t seem to be mourning...” Leorio pauses as the hand is yanked away from him. “Okay. Yeah. Sorry. We don’t have to talk anymore if you don’t want to.”

Chrollo stares at his hand as though it’s on fire. How  _ dare _ Leorio remember such an idiotic, offhand comment?! And why on earth did he say such a thing in the first place?! He slides his hand under the covers and forces himself to meet Leorio’s eyes. Such kind, warm eyes. A deep breath sighs out of his body, a sigh that feels like it’s waited all day for release. He might as well say it. It’s not as though keeping the secret will bring Uvo back. “A dear friend of mine died this week,” he whispers sadly, “and I have reason to believe someone killed him.” 

Leorio’s face falls and he instinctively reaches for Kuro’s arm, pulling him into a close hug. He strokes the stiff body in his arms. “I’m so sorry,” he murmurs into his hair, “Kuro, I’m so sorry, that’s horrible.” He places a gentle kiss on Kuro’s forehead and releases him, tucking his hair behind his ear. “And lemme guess, the pigs won’t do shit to help?”

Chrollo cracks a weak smile. “You certainly have a way with words. No, this isn’t something the city’s police will touch,” he murmurs. His toes curl anxiously as he realizes he’ll need to explain that. “I—I don’t mean to frighten you,” he whispers, “but my friends and I are... often entangled with some... shadier types, you might say.”

“Ah. Gotcha,” Leorio grunts. Cool, he’s been fucking a criminal, that’s just great. Zepile will kill him if this guy turns out to be a thief. So much for having a normal night. He sighs heavily. “Well... that doesn’t matter that much. I, um...” He pauses, clearing his throat of a lump of misery. “You know how I’m trying to be a doctor and all that?”

“Yes?”

“My best friend died,” Leorio says flatly, “of a curable disease.” He sniffs awkwardly and shrugs. “The world’s full of selfish bastards and untimely deaths. All those of us at the bottom can do is claw our way up and try to knock some of the bastards flat,” he sighs, “and hope we don’t hurt too many people on our way to bring the money back down.”

Chrollo blinks slowly. Part of him is relieved that Leorio didn’t say anything about what types of death are deserved. Another part of him is completely overwhelmed by this confession and worldly proclamation. His mouth opens slightly before closing again. Leorio’s ideals are remarkably close to his own, though the young man has clearly taken a more acceptable path, probably still convinced that their society is worth the participation costs. Chrollo remembers an early conversation he had with Uvogin, when he’d asked the enhancer how he and Nobunaga decided which people they were going to beat up and which ones they’d leave alone. Uvogin had laughed and told him it was obvious: they only fucked with people who were making the world worse. Chrollo’s brows draw together as he wonders if Uvogin still believed that after all these years. It’s probably what the chain user believes, that his murder of Uvogin has made the world a better place. And who’s to say if either of them were truly wrong? Chrollo inches closer to Leorio and places a hand on his chest. His steady heartbeat pulses through his palm. “Leorio?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you feel that you’re making your friend proud?”

Leorio lets out a slow breath. “Uhh, damn, that’s a hard question. Well... Hmmm.” He thinks for a moment about how he can condense the years of tossing and turning he’s spent devoted to that very question. He sighs. “I hope so. I never wanted to be a doctor, honestly, I just liked playing soccer and causing problems. Pietro was the one who thought we could get out of the slums if we went to school. So, I took school more seriously when he was around, and then when he got sick...” He trails off and closes his eyes. “Yeah, I think he’d be kinda proud that I actually got into med school,” he says gruffly, “and he’d definitely go crazy if he knew I have a fucking Hunter’s License. But... hmmm. Well, the past year or so, I’ve been kinda trying to think about how I can make myself proud, if that makes sense.” A small smile tugs at his lips as Leorio thinks about Gon and Killua, how excited they always are to tackle anything that comes their way. He wants to be a good example for them, especially given how shitty their families seem to be. The kids are way stronger than he’ll ever be, but he’s still older, and he still wants to be the kind of guy they can really look up to, even if it’s just to know that they can have normal lives if they want. He rubs Kuro’s back absentmindedly. “Yeah, I think Pietro would think I’m doing pretty well,” he whispers through a smile. 

Chrollo nods quietly and wraps his arms around Leorio’s waist. “That’s an interesting thought, being proud of oneself,” he murmurs. Certainly not something he could ever claim. 

“I read something once, I think it was Camus, about how the struggle towards our goals is the real happiness,” Leorio muses. “We must imagine Sisyphus happy.”

Chrollo smiles and shifts his weight closer to Leorio’s hips. “He also wrote that man is the only creature who refuses to be what he is,” he murmurs softly. How fitting that Leorio should also be familiar with Camus. “I think... well, I think I’ve done my best to honor Uvo,” Chrollo whispers slowly, “but I know he’d slap me around if he saw me crying over him. Perhaps you’re correct about taking time to earn the pride of those who have left us.”

“I can’t say I believe in ghosts,” Leorio murmurs, “but the dead don’t really leave us, y’know? Even though it’s probably just our own memories or whatever.” He nudges Kuro’s head gently and smiles as it tilts towards him. “Okay, I know I said I wouldn’t ask, but that tattoo—“

“It’s a terribly long story,” Chrollo interrupts. He leans up and kisses Leorio slowly, still thinking through all that he’s said. How odd that he would find this person tonight of all nights, this strange, kind student who understands loss and wealth and Kant. If he’d cried in front of Hisoka the magician would’ve finished up and left. One time he even texted a picture of Chrollo crying to Illumi. Chrollo parts his lips and draws Leorio closer, ready to forget about Hisoka and Uvogin and all the rest. A big hand slides lazily down his back. 

“Hmm,” Leorio hums into the kiss, “you want something, Kuro?”

Chrollo rolls his eyes and pushes Leorio onto his back, reaching down to stroke his cock a few times. “Oh, good, you’re still hard! That’s a talent,” he whispers playfully. He kisses him again and lifts his hips, squeaking in shock when Leorio holds them in place in the air. “Excuse me? Are we done, then?”

“Nah, just wanna make sure I won’t hurt you,” Leorio whispers. He slides three fingers into Kuro’s waiting hole and lets out a low whistle as his ass clenches around him. “Damn, anybody ever tell you you’ve got a perfect ass?”

“I—aha—what? No,” Chrollo gasps giddily. He tries to cant his hips down into Leorio’s hand but the fingers are gone and he nearly falls on the bed. “Dammit!”

Leorio stifles his laughter and sits up, kissing Kuro deeply. “Sorry, sorry,” he mumbles, “shoulda warned you I was taking my hand back.” 

“Leorio,” Chrollo purrs, “I  _ really _ need to feel your  _ beautiful _ cock, right now, because I’m  _ desperate _ for you to fuck me.” His shocked yelp disappears into Leorio’s aggressive kiss and then the medical student is shoving his cock into his ass with all the grace of a car crashing through a stop sign and then Chrollo is sinking onto it with a low, hungry moan, already rocking himself back up before he even reaches the base. “Yes, yes,” he hisses breathlessly, “yes, fuck me.” 

“You’re so fucking hot it’s insane,” Leorio growls. He tackles the smaller man into the bed and covers his mouth as he thrusts into him, yanking his legs to the side so he can spread him wider. “Oh, fuck, Kuro,” he groans, “fuck, Kuro, baby, you feel fuckin’ amazing, fuck!”

“Mmmph, Mmhmm, MMMHM MMPH,” Chrollo moans into his hand. His eyes roll as Leorio pounds into him. All he can think is to curl his legs up as high as they’ll go and keep rocking his hips down into each powerful stroke. Leorio changes his angle slightly and Chrollo shouts into his sweaty palm as his thick cock rams up into his prostate. “MMPHOH!”

“Shh, shh, shh,” Leorio pants in his ear. He squeezes his eyes shut and keeps thrusting, caught off guard by how eagerly his body responded to the low murmur that it was needed. He curses into Kuro’s hair and shoves up on his hands, slowing his hips just enough to watch the smaller man’s eyes flutter with each plunge. He grins and wipes sweat from his own brow. “You feel good, baby? Getting what you need, Kuro?”

“Yes, yes,” Chrollo whines as quietly as he can. His legs are on fire. He manages to open his eyes and sees Leorio’s charming grin gazing down at him, sans the stupid glasses, and he moans as he reaches for his face and pulls him down. “Leorio,” he mumbles into his mouth, “Leorio, god, don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” Leorio murmurs back. Their kiss is sloppy and wet, full of tears and sweat and spit, and the way Kuro says his name is making him feel like a god. Each movement of his hips drives another delightful sound into his mouth. He moans as slender fingers wrap around his back and dig in. “Can I touch you, Kuro? I—“

“Oh, god, please,” Chrollo gasps. His back arches off the bed with a sharp cry when a hand wraps around his aching cock. “Leorio, please,” he moans, “yes!”

Leorio chuckles and kisses his neck, sucking a dark hickey just above his collarbone. He strokes his hand in time with his hips as best he can, but Kuro’s hands are clawing at him now, and all his muscles are going crazy around his cock, and he won’t stop bucking into Leorio’s hand. “You close, babe? You fuckin feel close,” he rasps, pressing his thumb into the precum leaking from Kuro’s slit.

“Mmmf, mhmhmhm, oh god,” Chrollo moans. He bites down hard on Leorio’s shoulder as the tall student’s rhythm stutters awkwardly, desperate for him to keep going. “Leorio, fuck, just fuck me, oh my god,” he pants, “please, please, fuck, I need, I need harder, please!” 

“Then get on your knees,” Leorio growls. He pulls out and flips Kuro over, yanking him up to his hands and knees as he thrusts back into him. “Jesus, fuck, Kuro,” he groans, “goddamn!”

Chrollo arches his back and grabs blindly at a pillow, realizing he may need to smother himself with Leorio’s cock this deep inside him. He whimpers vaguely as strong hands grab his hips and start to move them. “Harder,” he moans. 

“Fuck,” Leorio mumbles. He can see more bruises and tattoos now, including one that kinda looks like a spider, but he’s probably just drunk, and the Troupe’s dead, and god, this ass feels fucking  _ amazing _ on his dick. He reaches around to grab Kuro’s cock again and groans as a quick tug sends his hips rocking right back into Leorio. “Just, fuck,” Leorio grunts, “try to stay quiet?”

“Mmhmm,” Chrollo nods. He shouts and then dives into the pillow as Leorio thrusts into him roughly, biting down hard to keep from embarrassing himself further. The clumsy grip on his cock is driving him insane. Leorio’s fingers are long and nimble and so casual about how they handle him, and then suddenly they’re  _ very _ precise, and he moans loudly as Leorio strokes him furiously. “Mmmph, Phio, Phio,” he whimpers into the pillow, “mmmMMMPH!”

Leorio curses under his breath and reaches for Kuro’s face, covering his mouth with the hand he’d been using on his cock. “That, is not, fucking, quiet,” he hisses with each thrust, “what kinda fuckin’ criminal are you, huh?”

Chrollo makes a sound somewhere between a low moan and a breathy laugh. What a fantastic question. It bolts from his mind like a rabbit from a hound as Leorio picks up the pace again. The hand around his mouth slides awkwardly and he opens his lips, sucking on the fingers. 

“Fuck,” Leorio groans. He feels like his whole body is disappearing into these warm holes, and though it’s tempting to fully let loose, the idea of Gon or Killua knocking on his door right now is enough of a boner-killer to keep him quiet. He grits his teeth as Kuro’s tongue swirls around his fingertips. “Jesus, Kuro,” he mutters, “I’m gonna need that hand if you wanna cum, babe.” 

Chrollo smirks and nips one of the knuckles without letting go. A good choice: Leorio growls in his ear and ruts into him harder, almost as though he’s suddenly being dominated by some kind of wild beast. His eyes flutter uselessly as he arches his back. “Mmmm, mmmhmmm,” he moans around the fingers in his mouth. They slip away and he whines. “Leo!”

“Heh, like that,” Leorio grunts vaguely. He takes his slick hand and strokes Kuro’s cock, chuckling at the way the smaller man rears back into his body. “Yeah, Kuro? C’mere, kiss me,” he gasps.

“Oh, Leo,” Chrollo moans as quietly as he can. A strong arm presses his chest up and he arches into Leorio’s warm chest, twisting his neck to meet his lips while his huge hand continues tugging at his cock. Any tiny movement of his body impales him further onto Leorio’s cock and separates their mouths, and it only takes a few moments for Chrollo to be too lost in the sensations to continue trying to kiss him. His body feels like a burning star. He bites down on his lip in a vague attempt to stifle his loud moans and reaches behind him into Leorio’s sweaty hair. “C-close, Leo, please,” he whimpers, “it’s so good, please!”

“God, fuck,” Leorio groans. He bites down on Kuro’s shoulder as the grip in his hair tightens, learning too late that this action produces a  _ very _ loud sound from the smaller figure, and curses under his breath as he hopes nobody heard them. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, babe,” he pants, “fuck, I could do this every day.”

“Leo, Leo, Leorio, rio, aha, yes, oh!”

Leorio curses darkly as he feels Kuro tense in his arms, trying to focus on maintaining the rhythm of his own hips as the ones riding him buck wildly. He clutches Kuro close and delivers a few quick thrusts before he has to smother a loud cry in the shape of his name and the stranger is shaking violently and coming all over his bed. Leorio’s eyes won’t stay open anymore. He drops Kuro and ruts into him a few more times before his legs stiffen and he buries a groan in his soft hair as he finishes, their hips still unconsciously rocking together through the final thrusts of their orgasms. Leorio shudders as he pulls out. “Jesus Christ,” he wheezes. 

“You shouldn’t take his name in vain,” Chrollo mumbles sleepily. A very silly thought occurs to him: perhaps it would be easier to imagine Sisyphus happy if his back-breaking labor entailed more fucking. He giggles and rolls to face Leorio, kissing him deeply.

“You’re so fuckin’ weird,” Leorio laughs as they pull away, “got all these weird little bible thoughts rolling around in this pretty little head.” He kisses him again anyways, warmed by postcoital bliss. “Mm. Mind if I smoke in here?”

“As long as you share,” Chrollo whispers playfully. He glances out at the night sky and wonders if he’s been missed yet. He sighs. “Though I really should be going,” he murmurs reluctantly. 

Leorio shrugs. “I’d say you could stay here but I’m pretty sure you actually can’t, so, my bad.”

“No, no, my friends will be worried,” Chrollo sighs. He sits up slowly and kisses the back of Leorio’s neck, smiling at the now-familiar taste of his sweat. Should he ask? What can I know? What ought I to do? What can I hope? He might as well. “Leorio?”

“Yeah?”

“How... how long are you in town?” Chrollo ducks for his clothes as he asks, ashamed by how bold the liquor has made him this evening. He’s been acting like a lovestruck teenager. He’s the head of the spiders, for god’s sake, he should be untouchable. 

Leorio smirks and lights a cigarette, passing it as he watches Kuro tug his pants on. “Dunno. At least til the end of the auction. You?”

“We’ll see,” Chrollo murmurs slyly. He wraps his headband neatly around his hair and checks his reflection in the dimly lit mirror. A handful of bites and hickeys stand out on his pale skin, but nothing too noticeable, especially given all the damage he took from the Zoldycks earlier. It’s unbearably comical to think that that encounter was merely a few hours before this one. He turns to Leorio and smiles. “Thank you, Leorio. Perhaps I’ll see you around.”

“Can I at least get your number, or are you too much of a shady little tease to give it out?”

Chrollo smirks. “You asked what kind of criminal I am earlier. Do I seem like a criminal to you?”

Leorio shrugs and lights a cigarette for himself as he tugs a shirt over his head. “Not really, except for the tattoos, I guess. Am I ever gonna find out what those mean?”

“You sound quite confident that we’ll be meeting again,” Chrollo murmurs quietly. 

“Won’t we? You confident you’ll find another ten-inch dick that can quote philosophy?” 

“My goodness, no wonder that seemed large,” Chrollo gasps. He hides an embarrassed smile behind the hand holding his cigarette and rolls his eyes. “Maybe I think you’re terribly irritating, Leorio, have you considered that?”

Leorio laughs and lays back on his bed. “Yup. It’s kinda part of my charm, though.” He sits up halfway and gives Kuro an odd look. “By the way, you alright?”

“Hmm?” 

“I mean, you seem pretty good, but I’m just wondering if you’re still sad, is all,” Leorio yawns. 

Chrollo gives him a faint smile. “Would you like to know why I’ve been reading Kant again, Leorio?”

“Sure, why not,” Leorio mumbles. He stubs out his cigarette and douses the candle, blindly rubbing a blanket over the drying cum on his sheets. 

“I’ve been up against a moral conundrum or two recently, and with the loss of my friend, I was wondering what it was I’d read once that connected morality and happiness. Are you familiar with the passage?”

Leorio yawns and rubs his eyes. It’s almost 3 now, and he’s fading fast. “Used to be. Something about having morals makes us happy, or whatever, right?”

“No,” Chrollo whispers. He leaves the remainder of his cigarette in Leorio’s ashtray and kneels by the bed, gazing thoughtfully at the light pattern of stubble on his cheeks. “Kant wrote, ‘Morality is not properly the doctrine of how we may make ourselves happy, but how we may make ourselves worthy of happiness,” he says softly, “and I’m still uncertain whether I’ve left room in my own moral code to make myself worthy of happiness.”

“Hmmm. Well,” Leorio sighs, “you’ve got a real nice laugh, Kuro, and I think everyone’s worthy of happiness.”

Chrollo rolls his eyes and stands up. This is hardly the time for a philosophical discussion. “Everyone, Leorio?”

“Bah, who cares? We don’t get to choose who’s happy and who’s not. We just get to choose to be happy for ourselves, man. You can’t worry so much about,” Leorio yawns dramatically, “about morals, and other people, and heaven, and all that shit. It’ll just distract you. What’s that one by Camus, about life?”

“Life is the sum of all your choices,” Chrollo sighs heavily. He is not particularly fond of that passage these days. 

Leorio yawns again. “No, no... Live to the point of tears. That’s the one. Think less and just keep going, live a life worth crying over,” he mumbles into his pillow. The door to his room closes and he passes out within seconds, drifting into a strange, featureless dream. 

Chrollo stares at Leorio’s wallet in his hands for a few moments before dipping back into the apartment and leaving it on the coffee table. Live a life worth crying over. Interesting. Almost interesting enough to make him wonder if he should stay in the city. Perhaps he’ll have time to visit Leorio again tomorrow after they collect the rest of the auction items. The stars wink like so many scattered gems. Even the moon seems to be lost in thought.

——————

_ “Two things fill the mind with ever-increasing wonder and awe, the more often and the more intensely the mind of thought is drawn to them: the starry heavens above me and the moral law within me.” _

_ Immanuel Kant. _


	3. Harsh Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leorio reels in the aftermath of Kurapika kidnapping Chrollo.

_ Should I kill myself, or have a cup of coffee? _

_ Albert Camus. _

——————

Leorio vomits.

But at least he’s held it this long. Kurapika’s passed out in bed, the kids are in the next room, and the only one who notices is Melody, who wakes up but lets him have this. 

He held it until after the hotel.

Practically blind to anything that wasn’t the kids at first and then they’d made eye contact and he’d just shouted,

“What are YOU lookin’ at?!”

To the horrible sight of that forehead cross that he remembered all too well, even through the blur of drunkenness that clouded the previous evening. He’d almost fucked up the entire plan right then and there. But Gon and Killua were within his sights and Melody and Kurapika were counting on him so he’d taken a deep breath and kept up the act. Even managed to toss a knife over his shoulder with the first message.

After the car.

He’d crashed into the driver’s seat and chugged the entirety of Melody’s water bottle and let out this strangled noise, but he swallowed it, needing to stay sane for Kurapika’s sake. And Kurapika almost lost it. Kuro—Leorio had to remind himself that his name was actually  _ Chrollo, _ because he was  _ the head of the goddamn Phantom Troupe, _ and not just a stranger anymore—had taunted Kurapika, pushed his buttons with ease. When he said the situation was insignificant Leorio had nearly crashed the car. 

“Kurapika, if you kill him, I’ll kill you!”

Leorio had wanted to say, “You have no idea how badly I want to kill this guy.” Or maybe, “fuck you, you didn’t think it was insignificant with my cock in your ass last night.” But the kids were still with the Spiders, so there was nothing to say but “you need to relax.” And this glammed-up asshole in the backseat seemed like a completely different person than the shyly flirtatious philosopher he’d met the night before. Halfway to the airport Leorio had remembered comforting him while he cried over his dead friend and he barely held back from screaming at the realization that he’d mourned the very Troupe member Kurapika had killed. 

“We don’t have an edge yet!”

“An edge? You couldn’t be more wrong.”

Chrollo acknowledged his presence and Leorio turned back to the road, trying to focus on his breathing. He’d never seen Kurapika this worked up. He had to stay calm. This wasn’t his fight. Gon. Gon and Killua. He had to remember the boys, had to stay focused so they’d get them back safely. This twisted bastard  _ who was really good in bed _ didn’t matter. Leorio ground his teeth until he was certain he might shatter one.

“Is this the chain you used to kill Uvo?”

There it was again, the reminder that Leorio had compared losing Pietro to a fucking monster getting exactly what he deserved. The leather of the steering wheel tore away from the metal under his grip. He looked at Melody and his heart ached. The poor woman had never seemed so distressed in the short time he’d known her, and the horror in her eyes was enough to steady him. Leorio reached out and grabbed her hand. She squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. Good. He could still help  _ somebody _ , at least. He said their names in his mind over and over to keep from listening to the conversation in the back seat. Gon. Killua. Melody. Gon. Killua. Melody. Gon. Killua. Melody. Leorio could still protect them. He hadn’t let them down yet. 

After the airport.

Leorio ducked into the bathroom at the airport and broke down. He just sobbed for a minute or two, and then he pulled himself together, and went back into the hallway. And then Hisoka had shown up and he’d wondered if he was finally going insane, because there was no way that stupid fucking magician would just appear out of nowhere like this, right? But there he was, with his creepy little smirk and everything. And then the boys were there and Leorio was able to smile again and Gon ran over to him and he held him so tightly he thought they might melt together.

“I’m so glad you’re safe, kiddos,” Leorio had whispered, and Killua had rolled his eyes but nudged him with a shoulder, which meant that he was relieved, too. 

So, after all of that shit, and after they make it safely back to Zepile’s apartment, Leorio vomits.

He vomits for what feels like an entire lifetime. Each heave rolls up on the heels of the others until he’s just shaking and coughing into the toilet, completely empty of anything except bile and abject horror. The remains of his sandwich drift lazily in the liquid mess. Leorio pulls himself to his feet and flushes. Water. Brush teeth. Wash face. He can still do these things, for now, at least. And then he’s standing in the door to his bedroom and his knees feel weak as he remembers kissing and touching and stroking and holding and fucking Kuro, no,  _ Chrollo, _ in that very bed the night before and he turns on his heel and staggers towards Kurapika’s room. 

Leorio doesn’t leave Kurapika’s side again until he wakes up. He listens to Melody’s music and changes the towels and takes his temperature and all of it helps, a little bit, but not quite as much as the beer helps when Zepile brings it in. Leorio drinks until he passes out and then he wakes up and takes care of Kurapika. 

All too soon, Kurapika is leaving again. Leorio nearly cries when Melody speaks about his heartbeat, wondering how that can possibly be true when he’s done the worst thing he could ever do to Kurapika. But he doesn’t have time to think about that. He picks up two more classes as soon as he gets home, throws himself into an overwhelming amount of work, stops thinking about Kurapika and Gon and Killua and the Phantom Troupe and nen and morality and murder and just stares at diagrams and case studies until his eyes are watering and he passes out on his books. Rinse and repeat. He makes it through a week. He goes out drinking and tells himself he can handle it and goes home with some girl and cries in her bed and leaves. He tries again the next night and makes it through the whole encounter without crying, though he sobs so hard he throws up in the street outside the latest hookup’s dorm. 

Gon and Killua call to tell him they’ll be inside the game from now on and Leorio’s actually grateful that he won’t be able to contact them. If he can just convince himself none of that ever happened, he’ll be okay. So he studies. He goes to lectures, to labs, to libraries. He shows up to panels and demonstrations and student government meetings and hurls himself into everything as much as he can. If his college friends notice something has changed, they don’t say anything. Has he made it through a week? Whenever he looks at the calendar it’s still September. It feels as though it may be September for the rest of his life.

——————

_ Nobody realizes that some people expend enormous energy merely to be normal. _

_ Albert Camus. _


	4. Mestastasis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drunk mistakes come back to haunt Leorio.

_ Life is the sum of all your choices.  _

_ Albert Camus. _

——————

“One thing I will admit is that you’re a very talented actor.”

Leorio screams and leaps back when he hears the voice in his room. Chrollo Lucilfer, leader of the Phantom Troupe, the man who killed Kurapika’s clan, one of the most dangerous criminals in the world, is sitting on the windowsill. Leorio repeats the words in his mind so he won’t accidentally call him “Kuro,” the totally bullshit name this freak gave him that terrible night when they had, in Leorio’s opinion, really awesome sex. He’s already saying it as he stands. “Kuro—fuck, FUCK YOU, fuck, GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Chrollo shrugs. “Why?”

“WHY?! I should kill you RIGHT NOW, YOU FUCKING BASTARD,” Leorio screams. 

“Ah, but you won’t,” Chrollo muses. He lifts a stray leaf from Leorio’s windowsill and drops it out the window, watching it float to the ground.

“Who says I won’t?! You want a piece of me, asshole?! I’ll fucking—“

“You said yourself you doubted your ability to take a life,” Chrollo says. He sounds bored. “You seemed especially reluctant on the topic of vengeance, if my memory serves me.”

Leorio’s entire body is shaking. He can’t tell if he wants to scream, or throw up, or strangle this bastard, or cry, or do all of the above at the same time, but instead he clenches his jaw and fumbles for a cigarette. “Get the fuck out of my dorm, you goddamn creep,” he snarls through his teeth, “how did you even find me?!”

“So, you won’t be killing me after all,” Chrollo murmurs slyly. He stares down at his own feet and tries to hold back the question. It comes out anyways. “How much did he pay you?”

“What?! What the fuck are you talking about?”

Chrollo sighs. “Hisoka. How much did he pay you, to seduce me?” 

Leorio coughs on his cigarette as he recoils in confusion. He shakes his head, spluttering, “What the fuck, dude?! Get outta here before I call the cops.” 

“Is he paying for your tuition? Room and board? All of it at once? I’m curious,” Chrollo says quietly. He hates that he’s even asking. But the last two weeks have been unbearably monotonous since everyone started playing that game and looking around for an exorcist. A month ago, the idea of only speaking to Hisoka and nobody else would’ve filled his heart with childish glee. But now it’s tiresome, and frustrating, and disheartening. Hisoka is bored of him. Actually, Hisoka was never interested in him as anything other than prey. Chrollo has been so alone, torturing himself with endless thinking. So he might as well find out just how much money the magician spent on destroying whatever scraps of a sense of self Chrollo had still been clinging to.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Leorio snaps. He shakes his head again, trying to think straight. “Fucking hell,” he groans, “I  _ wish _ someone had paid me to sleep with you. I’ll never be able to shower enough.”

Chrollo snorts. “So you expect me to believe that the chain user’s dear friend just so happened to run into me and seduce me the night before he planned to capture me?”

Leorio just stares at him. “Uh, yeah, because that’s exactly what happened. Turns out I’m just that fucking stupid,” he grumbles. He ashes the cigarette and sits down with a heavy sigh, taking his head in his hands. “Can you please leave? I have a lot of work to do.”

“You really are quite the actor,” Chrollo muses thoughtfully, “I’m almost inclined to believe you. But I know Hisoka far too well to trust any of his associates. No matter. Was it worth the price?”

“I already told you, I didn’t get jack shit,” Leorio groans. He wrinkles his nose. “And don’t associate me with that freaky perv, dude, I can’t stand the guy. Pretty sure he’s a pedophile.”

Chrollo blinks. “I can assure you he is sexually attracted to adults,” he says before he can stop himself. He sighs and closes his eyes. He can’t be sure of anything these days. “That is beside the point. You should be proud of yourself, Leorio, I genuinely bought your entire performance!” 

“Ewww, are you guys fucking? God, this just gets worse and worse,” Leorio moans. He bangs his head on the desk and tilts his head to look at the other man in the room. Chrollo is still perched in his window like an omen of death, his ridiculous black coat draped down the side of the building like wings. He still has a small scab above one of his eyes from where Kurapika punched him. Otherwise, he looks like he could be the lead singer of a goth band, with all the buckles and crosses all over his black outfit. His hair is slicked back. Leorio kicks himself internally for thinking he looks kinda hot like this. “Can you get the fuck outta here, seriously? I was finally convincing myself that none of that happened.”

“Do you regret sleeping with me, then? I should think you would feel pride.”

“Of course I regret it, you disgusting monster,” Leorio shouts. He slams his fists on his desk angrily and tugs at his hair. “Fuck off. Just fuck off, why the  _ fuck _ would I be proud that I slept with a goddamn dirty spider?!”

Chrollo cocks his head slightly. “Because you distracted me, quite successfully, and I never would’ve allowed myself to be captured had I not been wondering what you were doing screaming in that hotel,” he explains patiently. This conversation is rather confusing. He’s not sure why Leorio is continuing to pretend it was all some horrible coincidence—shouldn’t he be boasting about how  _ easy _ it was to seduce Chrollo, how deeply his friends have ruined Chrollo’s life now? The tiniest frown grows on his face. 

“How many times do I have to fucking tell you, I didn’t know I was fucking the goddamn leader of the Phantom Troupe, you asshole, I thought I was just getting lucky with some weird nerd!” Leorio tosses a paperweight at Chrollo’s head, missing by a mile. The bandit doesn’t even flinch. Leorio groans and rubs his eyes again. “Really just my fucking luck, though,” he grumbles, “shoulda known better. I never just get lucky.” 

“Hmmm.” Chrollo’s frown deepens. Technically, he  _ did _ lie to Leorio about his identity in order to sleep with him. But one’s identity is such a fluid thing, especially when it comes to sexual desire. A small ache tugs at his side as he remembers how enticing the fantasy of becoming Kuro had been. All the while he’d been betraying the Spiders, enjoying the company of a man who would celebrate their downfall, putting his own selfish pleasure before reasonable thought. He taps his foot absentmindedly and folds his hands in his lap. Should he believe Leorio? What difference does it make, except to lessen some of the unrelenting pain of Hisoka’s betrayal? If Hisoka didn’t hire Leorio to seduce him, that means Chrollo was able to successfully form a genuine connection with another person, and that he is in fact a desirable sexual partner. That would certainly be nicer to believe than the idea that Hisoka’s lack of respect for him had sunken so low as to prompt hiring someone to fuck him so he wouldn’t have to.

Leorio peeks through his fingers and groans when he realizes Chrollo is still in his room. “Seriously, why the hell are you still here? Go away,” he snaps, “I don’t need the reminder that I’m the worst friend on the planet.” He groans again. “Or that I’ve fucked the same person as Hisoka, FUCK!”

“Life is the sum of all our choices,” Chrollo muses quietly. 

“I don’t ever wanna think about philosophy again,” Leorio grunts. He lights another cigarette. “If you’re not gonna leave, do you mind hurrying up and killing me already? Your voice is pissing me off.” 

Chrollo smirks. “I thought you said it was sexy,  _ Leo.” _

“Don’t FUCKING CALL ME THAT, ASSHOLE! Jesus CHRIST, I’m gonna kill myself,” Leorio shouts. His stomach turns over as he remembers how much he loved being called Leo. Fucking disgusting. “Are you gonna kill me or not?”

Chrollo considers the question. He certainly should kill Leorio, for a handful of reasons: he poses a threat to the Troupe, he means something to the chain user, he knows far more about Chrollo than anyone ever should. But it would hardly be satisfying to kill one of the chain user’s friends without the little bastard there to witness it. And... as much as Chrollo resents himself for it, he doesn’t actually want to kill Leorio. Not in the slightest. He recalls what that strange child asked about killing people who have nothing to do with him and sighs. Why  _ is _ it so much easier to take lives that have never intertwined with his own? Is he just soft? Leorio seemed to think he was soft. Fragile, even. A horrifying thought. Chrollo gazes down at his hands and wonders what he will say. 

Leorio snorts. “Guess not, huh? Weird goddamn bastard. You can kill a whole clan but not some lousy college student?” He scoffs and takes a drag of his cigarette before a smirk tugs at his lips. “Maybe I should take that as a compliment,” he mutters, “my dick’s just  _ that _ fantastic.”

Chrollo forces himself to swallow his offended retort. There is an unfortunate amount of truth in Leorio’s statement—not only was this person unbearably kind to him in a moment of weakness, the sex  _ was _ very, very enjoyable. He manages a bored sigh. “Hardly. You’re the only person I even know outside of the Troupe, and one can only be stuck talking to Hisoka for so long without losing one’s mind,” he says carefully. 

“You don’t fucking know me,” Leorio snaps, “we just slept together, that’s all. Go away.” 

“I know you hold your friends in the highest regard, that you value life above all else, that you pretend to care about wealth only to hide your true generous nature,” Chrollo murmurs. “I know your whole life is devoted to a memory—“

Leorio leaps across the room and shoves his shoulders so roughly that Chrollo nearly falls out of the window. “You don’t know shit,” he growls. His aura is flaring, not that he notices. All he feels is rage. “You wanna know what pisses me off the most, Kuro?”

Chrollo nods. Kuro. Leorio can still manage to see him as Kuro, even if it’s just in the confusion of fury. This revelation intrigues him more than he wants to admit. 

“That I actually felt bad for you,” Leorio sneers, “cause I really believed you felt sad about losing that fucking monster you thought of as a friend. Hell, I even compared that piece of shit to Pietro for you, trying to make you feel better.” He crushes the cigarette in his hand without ashing it, too angry to feel the burn. “And you let me talk about normal fucking people as though you’ve ever cared who lives or dies. That shit pisses me off the most. It’s bad enough that I basically betrayed Kurapika. But you—“ Leorio pauses as his teeth chatter from rage. He can’t recall ever being this angry. His next words fly out as so much spittle. “You even got me to betray  _ myself, _ you dirty fucking freak.”

“Hmmm, did I? You offered everything up to me freely,” Chrollo says softly. His words carry a cruel bite up from his aching heart. Does Leorio truly believe he somehow falsified his breakdown over losing Uvogin? 

Leorio scoffs and sits heavily on the edge of his bed. “Whatever. Fuck off, asshole. I’m busy.” 

“Ah, well,” Chrollo sighs, “I certainly don’t have anywhere to be. Where are your young friends? I thought you—“

“Fuck off, dickhead, I’m not telling you where they went.”

“I’m just curious, I don’t intend to cause them any harm,” Chrollo murmurs. He leans forwards on his elbows and stares inquisitively at Leorio. Dark shadows have sunken his warm eyes, and his skin looks dry and irritated. This exhausted, angry student seems a far cry from the playful, big-hearted man who seduced him so effortlessly just the other week. He tilts his head as he considers Leorio’s silly little reading glasses. The boy even wears a suit and tie in his own bedroom. What an odd little optimist. “Hmm. What are you so busy with, then?”

Leorio glances at him out of the corner of his eyes and snorts. “Don’t act like you care. Seriously, do I have to call the cops on you?”

“There’s a bong on your dresser, so I don’t think you will,” Chrollo teases. He smirks at the vein bulging in Leorio’s head. Why on earth doesn’t Leorio just kill him? He could shove Chrollo through the window and send his body crashing back to earth in a split second. Chrollo would let it happen. He’s quite tired. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Hmmm,” Chrollo hums, “would you like to?”

Leorio bolts up from his bed and punches Chrollo square in the jaw. He jumps back with a panicked look. “Don’t kill me,” he squeaks fearfully. 

Chrollo licks the blood from his split lip and laughs. “Almost as hard as your little friend. What was his name again? Karpik?”

“Kurapika,” Leorio snarls. “And no, I’m not gonna fuck you again, you complete lunatic. Get the hell out of my room.” 

“Ah, that’s a shame,” Chrollo sighs, “because you were  _ very _ good at it.” He gives Leorio a devious smile, thrilled by how much more upset he’s made him. Such a relief to have the upper hand on someone for the first time since everything went so horribly wrong. “I truly enjoyed our evening together, Leorio. Didn’t you?”

“No, and fuck you for asking,” Leorio snaps. His dick twitches at the memory, though, especially the image of Chrollo riding him until he was begging to be fucked harder. He shakes his head angrily. 

Chrollo pouts. “Really? You ask people for their numbers on principle, then?”

“Maybe,” Leorio mutters. This is driving him nuts. If the bastard isn’t going to leave, maybe he should just go. He glances at the door. 

“Ah, I’d be careful about leaving a notorious bandit alone among your belongings,” Chrollo teases. He snickers to himself as Leorio’s fists clench and unclench, wondering if the student will try to hit him again. That would be rather satisfying.

“I seriously can’t fucking stand you,” Leorio snarls. He sits down at his desk and slams his face into his laptop. “What the hell did I do to deserve this, huh? I’m a good person,” he moans.

Chrollo shrugs and slinks down from the window, perching in Leorio’s bed. The intoxicating smell of his cologne and sweat washes over him. He smiles in spite of himself. “Pray tell, Leo, what is a good person, hmm?”

“Not you, that’s for sure,” Leorio mutters without looking up. He feels like he’s gonna vomit if he has to keep hearing this guy’s voice. Part of him toys with the idea of calling Kurapika, but he knows he won’t be able to do that to the Kurta. He can’t know that Chrollo is here. He can’t be driven to kill again. There’s also the uncomfortable fact that Leorio would have to explain  _ why _ the leader of the Phantom Troupe decided to show up at his dorm. He groans into the desk and slams his head down a few more times, hoping he can kill off the brain cells that’ll remember this shit happening. 

“Do good people exist?”

“Fuck off, Kuro. Chrollo. Whatever.”

Chrollo smiles and smoothes the blankets beside his legs. “Out of the crooked timber of humanity, no straight thing was ever made,” he murmurs. 

Leorio groans loudly and turns to look at him. “HEY! Get the fuck out of my bed, you dirty freak!”

“Why do you keep implying that I am unclean?” 

“Because you look like you’ve never showered in your life, and that coat seems like it’s made of dead animal,” Leorio sneers. He remembers that the crook of Chrollo’s neck smelled faintly of frankincense and lilac and groans again. 

Chrollo smirks. “I believe you know for a fact that I wash myself, Leo,” he says teasingly. 

“Your clothes still look gross,” Leorio shoots back. He snorts. “And that’s not my fucking name, dude. Go away.” 

“No, I think I’ll stay,” Chrollo says happily. He lifts a textbook from under one of Leorio’s pillows and flips through it. “Hmm! ‘The Emperor of Maladies.’ I don’t believe I’ve read this one!”

Leorio groans and throws a pencil at him, wishing he would get the hell out of his bed and stop touching his things. “Don’t care. Get out.” 

“Ah, cancer,” Chrollo muses, “a horrible thing.”

“Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you,” Leorio snaps. He storms over and snatches the book from Chrollo’s hands. “As if you have any fucking idea,” he spits, “or even care what it does to people. Just fuck off, asshole.” 

Chrollo shrugs. “Bold of you to presume I haven’t lost loved ones to the disease myself.” 

Leorio rolls his eyes. “Bold of you to pretend you have loved ones,” he counters. 

“I used to,” Chrollo says quietly. He looks down at his hands again. The citizens of Meteor City are riddled with cancers, horrible malformations, and other terrible diseases, all from the improper waste disposal of more powerful nations. His only memory of his own mother is watching the nuns unhook the IV as the cancer finished eating away her brain.

“Don’t try to trick me into feeling sorry for you, goddammit,” Leorio shouts. He’s holding the book so tightly the cover cracks under his fingers. He hurls it at the wall. “I have WORK TO DO, you piece of shit, IMPORTANT WORK, that’ll actually HELP PEOPLE, GOT IT?! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM!”

Chrollo sighs and lays back on the bed, staring up at the faux stucco ceiling. Leorio’s walls are covered in taped-up photos of friends, a chart of the human body, movie posters, and drawings that look like they were done by children. There’s even a map of the world. His laundry hamper is overflowing in the corner. Sweatshirts and loose ties decorate the floor. The whole room is so unbelievably normal it makes Chrollo feel dizzy. It looks like a college student’s dorm room in a movie, except for the Hunter’s License dangling over Leorio’s desk. He sighs again. “The busier we are, the more acutely we feel that we live, the more conscious we are of life,” he quotes. 

“Fuck OFF,” Leorio groans. He slumps back into his chair and glares at his bookshelf. His own well-worn copy of Kant’s writings stares back at him. He grunts angrily and flings it at the murderer quoting from it sprawled across his bed. “Here, since you like Kant so much, why don’t you fucking take this,” he snaps, “I’m definitely never reading his shit again.”

“That’s a pity, Leo,” Chrollo muses, “he’s a very important thinker.” He pages through Leorio’s copy with a smile. It’s full of neat, careful handwriting, a far cry from what he would’ve expected of this hot-headed aspiring doctor. His smile grows wider as he notices a particular passage that’s been underlined multiple times with a tiny heart next to it. “Rules for happiness: something to do, someone to love, something to hope for,” he reads quietly. Well, that’s certainly a succinct summary of why he can’t claim to feel happiness these days. 

Leorio’s throat closes up and he takes a few deep breaths, terrified of crying in front of this psychopath. He sent that quote to Kurapika at some point over the past year in a half-assed attempt to confess his feelings. The Kurta had just argued that happiness was irrelevant to the human condition. “Get the fuck out of my room,” he says thickly. 

Chrollo glances up. “Have I touched a nerve?” His eyes dart to the framed photograph on Leorio’s desk: Leorio excitedly crushing three people into a hug, two of whom are those children from Yorknew. The third is, of course, the chain bastard. He smirks. “Oh, I see.”

“See what?”

“You’re in love with the chain user,” Chrollo murmurs, “now isn’t that amusing. Does he know?”

Leorio’s face goes bright red. “I’m not in love with Kurapika, fuck off, asshole!”

“Oh, so he doesn’t then. Hmm. A pity. I wonder if he would so readily use his own life as a bargaining chip if he knew how you felt,” Chrollo muses cruelly. The taunt works. Leorio leaps from his chair and tackles him on the bed, crushing his windpipe with his huge hands.

“I’m going to FUCKING KILL YOU,” Leorio screams, “YOU STUPID BASTARD, FUCK YOU!” He rears back and punches Chrollo as hard as he can while wringing his neck, hitting him just three times before he bursts into tears and collapses next to him on the bed. His hands are bloody. “I can’t do this,” he sobs, “I can’t do this!”

Chrollo struggles to open his swollen eyes as he listens to Leorio weep. His nose feels broken. When he tries to speak it just comes out as a faint rasp. So his throat has also been injured. Interesting. When he manages to touch his stinging cheeks his hands come away covered in his own blood. Good. He licks his fingers clean and tries to speak again. “Hhhhhhh.” 

Now that he’s started, Leorio can’t stop crying. He sobs so loudly that other students in the hallway stop to listen, wondering if they should check in on him. His throat is raw from screaming. His chest feels as though an elephant is sitting on it, each heaving gulp of miserable air only crushing his lungs further. The weight next to him on the bed shifts and he moans pathetically as he remembers that he’s crying because Chrollo is sitting in his bedroom taunting him, and then he cries harder as he imagines what Kurapika would think if he knew Leorio had the chance to kill the bastard but didn’t take it. All of this is way too much. Leorio’s eyes eventually run dry but he’s still sobbing vague, dry noises up from his shattered heart. He’s a terrible friend. He’s no use to anyone. He’s not even a very good student. He’s just some guy who got lucky with the friends he made, and now he’s some guy stuck with the worst ever consequences of a one-night-stand. His voice finally catches and he stops making sound. Leorio’s body manages to take a few normal breaths as it slides from consciousness. 

Chrollo frowns. It hurts to frown. He pokes Leorio in the side and groans as he drags himself to his feet. The student has cried himself to sleep in the middle of the day. Chrollo stumbles to the desk and gingerly sips from Leorio’s water, coughing violently as it slides through his bruised throat. He rummages through the drawers until he finds the well-kept first aid kit. His face looks like a rotting melon in the mirror. Chrollo carefully applies antiseptic and ice and bandages, finishing off what remains of Leorio’s water as he goes. He opens and closes his mouth experimentally and steals one of the student’s cigarettes. 

“Leorio?” 

Well, at least his voice is working again. Chrollo sighs glumly and scrolls through Leorio’s laptop. A few tabs of research, a bunch of homework documents, and one incognito tab displaying porn. Chrollo smirks and clicks play. Doctor porn,  _ really?! _ That hardly seems appropriate for someone who actually hopes to be one. He wrinkles his nose in disgust and closes the tab. How strange that such an unremarkable student with such terrible taste in pornography would be so  _ very _ good in bed. Chrollo sighs and takes a long drag of the cigarette, frowning at Leorio’s unconscious body on the bed. The strangest urge compels him to stand. 

Leorio’s shoes slide off easily. Chrollo reaches up and undoes his tie, hanging it neatly on the tie rack in his closet. He goes back to the bed and tugs at Leorio’s jacket. The big student is absurdly difficult to move in his sleep. Chrollo grunts with effort as he rolls him on his side and pulls the jacket free, hanging it on the back of the desk chair. Leorio’s pants are next. They just look too nice to be slept in, Chrollo tells himself. He sighs appreciatively at the long, muscular legs that slide out of the fabric. How disappointing to know he’ll never feel them entangled with his own again. He shoves Leorio’s legs into the bed and pulls his covers up to his chest, leaning over to leave a swift kiss on his brow. Chrollo blushes at his reflection in the mirror. He’s being completely ridiculous. But it’s kind of fun. He leaves the cigarette in Leorio’s ashtray, snatches a fistful of cash and the book on cancer, and hops out the window, eager to find something else to do. 

——————

_ Always go too far, because that’s where you’ll find the truth.  _

_ Albert Camus. _

——————


	5. Sisyphus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leorio receives a gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some dubious consent & an injury in this chapter.

_ Have patience awhile; slanders are not long-lived. Truth is the child of time; erelong she shall appear to vindicate thee. _

_ Immanuel Kant. _

——————

Leorio wakes up with a start. He’s fucking freezing. Oh good, his window is wide fucking open for some reason, and it looks like he’s woken up just in time to catch the first snow of the season. He rubs his eyes as he leans up to close the latch. Mid-November is pretty early for snow. Maybe it’ll be a blizzard and classes will be cancelled. As if he’d get that lucky. 

With the window shut, Leorio collapses on his pillow with a heavy sigh. Nope. Mind’s wide awake. He groans and rolls to grab his phone. Nothing new, of course, not at this hour. It’s 3 in the morning. Leorio scrolls through the sparse text chain with Kurapika and sighs again. Might as well leave a voicemail. 

“Hey, Kurapika. Just woke up for some reason, but it’s snowing here, which is pretty cool. Has it snowed where you are yet? Actually, have you ever even seen snow? I still don’t know much about Lukso.” 

Leorio pauses as he notices a strange shape on his desk. Something has been placed on top of his computer. He stands up slowly. 

“I’m gonna call you back,” he mumbles, as if it’ll matter. He’s pretty sure Kurapika doesn’t bother listening to these. Whatever. At least Leorio’s  _ trying  _ to show he cares. He stumbles towards the light and flicks it on, jumping back with a loud curse when he sees the mysterious package.

“Gotta be fucking kidding me,” Leorio groans under his breath. It’s his book.  _ The Emperor of Maladies.  _ Well, it’s the first copy he bought of this book—there’s a second one sitting on his shelves. But this one on his desk disappeared back in September. Leorio checks himself. It was  _ stolen,  _ it didn’t disappear. Stolen by the leader of the fucking Phantom Troupe, in fact, who’d shown up to taunt him about how they’d hooked up right before Kurapika kicked his ass. Leorio groans and slumps into the seat. Sick bastard seems to have reread it plenty of times over the past two months, cause it’s all dog-eared and water-stained and beat up. And of  _ course  _ there’s a goddamn note sticking out of it. Leorio slams his face down on his desk and tries to decide if he should bother reading whatever bullshit Chrollo has to say. In all likelihood it’s just some asinine essay about how fleeting life is or whatever. A sudden wave of exhaustion rolls over Leorio and he yawns loudly as he buries his face in his arms. Maybe he’ll just take a quick nap. 

——————

Chrollo stares at the dirty snowbank and wonders why he’s still in this accursed city, still standing outside this museum after the humiliation of yesterday’s phone call with Hisoka. He feels sick. He walked away from Leorio’s dormitory without watching where he was going, and now the sun has risen on a thick blanket of snow already graying in the city streets. If he hadn’t ruined it for himself, maybe he could spend the day exploring this museum, even make off with a few beautiful trinkets just to have something to do. But no. He just had to succumb to Hisoka’s low-level taunting and poison the entire building with the memory of his laughter. Chrollo digs his fists deeper into his pockets and shivers. A gaggle of students drifts by, laughing about the glorious luck of their classes getting cancelled for the day. Interesting. He glances up in the direction of Leorio’s dormitory. He  _ was _ already wishing he’d stolen another of his books. Perhaps there’s still some time before he wakes up.

——————

Leorio is on his way back from the coffee shop when he sees a dark shadow climbing the side of his building and he screams, flinging his coffee into the street. He sprints up the five flights of stairs and bursts into his room just as Chrollo’s small knife breaks through the lock and the window pops open.

“NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT! FUCK OFF,” he screams.

Chrollo startles and flops forwards onto the bed, catching his blade in his thigh. “Ow,” he mutters, “and hello, Leorio.”

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY ROOM,” Leorio shrieks, “BECAUSE I SWEAR TO GOD, I  _ WILL  _ CALL KURAPIKA RIGHT FUCKING NOW!”

“Oh, calm down,” Chrollo says dismissively. He tries to stand and winces. His knife went a few inches into his muscle, it seems. There’s a big stain spreading across his pants. “Do you mind?”

Leorio stares at him, mouth agape. “Do I—GET OUT!”

“Don’t you have bandages? I appear to be bleeding,” Chrollo remarks drily. He shifts his weight and winces again. Leorio doesn’t move. Chrollo sighs. “Well? Either help me or call your friend.” 

Leorio’s hand shakes around the phone in his pocket. He knows damn well Kurapika won’t pick up if he calls right now. He also knows the cops aren’t likely to be useful. He pulls the phone out anyways. “Fuck you, I hope you bleed to death,” he spits.

Chrollo shrugs and watches Leorio dial. The student looks incredibly nervous. Amusing. He can hear the phone ringing and he smirks. Ah, so the chain user doesn’t answer his calls anymore. How unfortunate. Leorio hangs up without leaving a voicemail and Chrollo blinks at him. “Did he stop speaking to you after you told him, then?”

“Fuck you.” 

Chrollo sighs. “I don’t know why you would do that, Leorio, there’s no reason he had to find out. You’ve only hurt yourself, you know.”

“I didn’t—just, fuck off,” Leorio snaps. He sits down at his desk and glares at the unopened note from Chrollo. “I didn’t tell him, and I’m not gonna tell him, alright? I’m not that fucking stupid,” he mutters under his breath.

A tiny smile tugs at the corners of Chrollo’s mouth. “Then why doesn’t he pick up your calls?”

“He’s fucking busy, you dick. Some people have jobs, ever heard of those? Jesus Christ,” Leorio grumbles, “you’re so fucking annoying. How much would it cost to get you to leave me alone?”

“Mmm, I’m not all that interested in money,” Chrollo sighs. He tears a section of his pants away to inspect his wound. “Can you at least pass me a bandage? I shouldn’t like to bleed all over your bed.” 

Leorio rolls his eyes. “Fuck you.”

“You’re not being a very good doctor,” Chrollo chides. He lurches onto his uninjured leg and manages to hop over to Leorio’s dresser, pulling out the first aid kit he remembers from the first time he broke in. He trips back to the bed and pokes around. Leorio watches him in confused horror. 

“How did you—“

“You broke my nose last time,” Chrollo explains as he wipes up some of his blood. He sighs at how foolish this little injury is—it’s been a long time since he was actually startled by someone coming home while he was breaking in. Normally the homeowner would already be dead. Normally, he reminds himself, he wouldn’t be alone, and he would be able to use nen. Machi would have this wound fixed in an instant. Chrollo sighs again. “This is all very frustrating, Leorio, this situation your friend has left me in,” he murmurs. He winces as he tightens the bandage on his leg. “I can’t recall ever being so bored in my entire life.”

Leorio scoffs. “Go to hell, pisslord.”

Chrollo’s head jerks up with an amused snort. “Pisslord? That’s new,” he remarks. “Did you invent that yourself?”

“You really don’t talk to people, do you? Fucking freak,” Leorio chuckles. He shakes his head angrily. No chuckling. Not with this bastard. “Why are you even here? Forget to drop off more shit you stole from me?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. I was rather hoping I could borrow another book.”

Leorio rolls his eyes. “You didn’t borrow the first one, asshole.” 

“But I returned it,” Chrollo says patiently, “which makes it borrowed, not stolen.”

“You stole it, cause you’re a thief, and a murderer, and a goddamn piece of shit,” Leorio snaps. He glowers at the framed photo of his friends back in Padokea. That entire adventure at Killua’s house seems impossibly far away now. His eyes drop to the cover of the book Chrollo stole, and the note sticking out of its pages. He never bothered to read it. And now the asshole is in his room again, so why bother? Leorio groans and buries his face in his arms. “I really needed that coffee,” he mumbles to himself.

Chrollo cocks his head inquisitively. “Did something happen to your coffee, Leorio?”

“Oh my fucking god, go away,” Leorio moans. 

“How do you take it?”

“Take—no. Nope. Get the fuck out and don’t come back, and  _ especially _ don’t come back with coffee, you fucking dickbag,” Leorio growls. He grabs a handful of pens from his desk and chucks them in the general direction of his bed, hoping Chrollo will finally get the message. 

Chrollo ignores the message. “Tsk. You’re being quite rude, Leorio.”

“You BROKE IN HERE,” Leorio screams into his folded arms. He leans back in the chair and groans loudly at the ceiling. “For like, the third fucking time!”

“So?”

“SO?!  _ SO?!  _ SO GET OUT, ASSHOLE! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY BED, GET OUT OF MY ROOM, AND PLEASE, FOR GOD’S SAKE, GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY LIFE AND STAY OUT,” Leorio roars. He throws a few books at Chrollo to punctuate his tirade and sinks back into the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “WHY DO YOU KEEP BOTHERING ME?!”

Chrollo shrugs. “I keep telling you, I truly have nothing else to do with my time, and no one else to speak to,” he says patiently, “and we had such wonderful conversations that—“

“I was wasted, alright? I was wasted and trying to get laid, I’m really not that interesting, I promise,” Leorio interrupts. He would really prefer not to be reminded of that evening ever again. He groans and slams his head into his desk again. “Please, just leave,” he whines. 

“Leorio—“

“And stop talking to me like we’re friends, alright? I fucking  _ hate  _ you. The idea of you makes me sick. You’re a genocidal maniac and a self-centered piece of shit and a pretentious asshole, and your tattoo is fucking stupid,” Leorio rants at the floor. He cuts himself off after mentioning the tattoo. He shouldn’t be thinking anything about what Chrollo looks like, especially not about the tattoo on his forehead, and how it wrinkled a little bit every time his eyebrows jumped up when he moaned—Nope. Gotta stop doing that. 

Chrollo sighs and checks his phone. Nothing, of course, as there’s no one to contact him. “I can admit to being pretentious,” he muses, “but I’m less sure about the rest.”

“Less—fuck you, I’m not falling for that shit,” Leorio snorts. Sick bastard acts like he didn’t even kill Kurapika’s entire clan. Leorio’s stomach turns as he realizes that Chrollo would’ve only been a year older than he is now when he massacred the Kurta. He leans into his wastebasket and retches noisily, but his stomach is empty. 

Chrollo wrinkles his nose. “Are you hungover?”

“Fucking psycho,” Leorio rasps. He gags again and scowls at the empty plastic bag. “How can you even live with yourself?!”

“Hmmm,” Chrollo sighs. He flops back on the bed and closes his eyes, exhausted by the question. The most natural answer would be to say that he can’t live with himself: rather, he lives alongside many versions of himself, each of which is riddled with flaws and weaknesses. He sighs again. “Such a  _ difficult  _ question, Leorio, must I answer it?”

“Fuck off,” Leorio groans. He drags himself back into his chair and takes a swig of water. “I don’t actually  _ want  _ an answer, you stupid bastard! And for your information,” he snaps, “I’m not hungover, you just make me fucking sick.”

Chrollo frowns. Oh. That’s disappointing. “Hmm. Well then,” he muses, “what are you planning to do today? It seems the snow has cancelled classes.”

“What am I—fuck,” Leorio mumbles. He quickly checks his email and slams his laptop shut with a loud groan. “None of your business, asshole, so get the hell outta my room.” 

“You’re not very fun anymore, Leo,” Chrollo sighs. He lifts one of his arms and inspects the sleeve of his stolen jacket. Camouflage doesn’t suit him after all. He’ll have to find something new.

Leorio grunts and stands up, grabbing his backpack. “Don’t care. Bye, dickhead. Don’t fucking follow me.” He dips into the hallway and slams the door behind him, dashing to the staircase as quickly as he can. He can’t deal with this shit anymore. Even with classes cancelled, he’s got a lot of exams coming up, and a shift in the records library that starts at noon. He grumbles angrily to himself about how unfair everything is as he races away from the painful reminder of his greatest regret.

Chrollo sighs heavily and drags himself to his feet. Rather disappointing, but hardly surprising. He looks through Leorio’s books and selects a few that look intriguing: a history of socialized medicine, a recent best-selling novel, and a book on the ethics of end-of-life care. The calendar hung above Leorio’s desk calls his attention. Chrollo smirks as he makes note of Leorio’s schedule for the day. He also notices a list of courses for next semester. “Hmmm. The busier we are,” he murmurs to himself. Perhaps he could audit a few classes, fill up some of these restless, lonesome hours with the pursuit of knowledge. He smiles to himself. Robbing wealthy medical students is one way he could begin accumulating resources to pay an exorcist. Yes, this feels like an amusing use of his days. He drifts out of the dormitory and makes for the central administrative building, humming to himself as he strides through the snow.

——————

“KURAPIKA?! Oh my GOD, HEY,” Leorio shouts into the phone. He feels like his whole body just got electrified at the sound of his estranged friend’s ringtone.

“Hello, Leorio,” Kurapika murmurs, “I have to change my number. Do you have a pen?”

Leorio scrambles for the nearest piece of paper and tucks his phone into his shoulder. “Go ahead.” He scribbles the digits as quickly as he can, grinning stupidly at the knowledge that Kurapika has bothered to tell him. “Got it! So, how—“

“I apologize, but I don’t have time to chat,” Kurapika says softly. He sounds tired. He always sounds tired. “But… I do enjoy the voicemails,” he admits quietly, “I’m very sorry I haven’t been able to talk. Goodbye, Leorio.” 

A click and the call is disconnected. Leorio sighs at the number scrawled over his course sign-up sheet. Guess he’ll have to print it out again. He changes Kurapika’s contact in his phone and wanders over to the printers, scrolling through recent headlines while he waits for some girl to finish printing what looks like an entire textbook. Nothing new. It’s a new year, almost time for the Hunter Exam again, and the only other story is the unsolved series of break-ins on the north side of town. Leorio shrugs and closes the tabs. If the ultra-wealthy don’t wanna get robbed, they shouldn’t hoard so much. He prints out his form and goes back to his carrel. A dissection lab, an ethics course, the second semester of biochemistry, and statistics. This semester is gonna suck. He decides to tack on a film class from the liberal arts college about science fiction as a pass/fail, figuring he might as well have a little fun if he’s spending all this money on university. 

It’s Saturday, so his group chat is going nuts trying to plan which parties they’ll go to: one of the frats is doing a toga party (Leorio snorts; it’s way too fucking cold for that), another is throwing a masquerade, and one of the bars on campus is having a ladies’ night. Leorio shrugs. That particular bar has the absolute  _ worst  _ prices, and they always double the cover for guys on their special nights. He votes for the masquerade. He’s still got his pirate costume in his closet from Halloween. And the sorority that pairs with that frat are known for the sluttiest outfits, so, win-win. 

Night falls quickly and Leorio frowns at himself as he pulls the eyepatch on. Maybe he should’ve picked up an actual mask. Then again, the torn shirt shows off his pecs, and he looks  _ good  _ with a fake gold tooth. He leers at the mirror. Yeah, he’s getting laid tonight. Sweet. He pulls a coat on and heads out, wanting to get to his friend’s apartment for the pregame before everyone else drinks everything. 

The party is crowded and sweaty and exactly what Leorio needs today. A girl in a slutty pirate costume trips her way over to him as soon as he walks away from the drinks and he grins as he catches her.

“Yar, matey, watch where you’re going,” he chuckles.

She gives him an incredibly drunk smile and leans into his arms, playfully running a hand down his chest. “Aye aye, captain,” she slurs, “wanna shiver me timbers?”

Leorio laughs. “You seem a little gone, sweetheart,” he says kindly, “come here with any friends?”

“Uggghh, whatever,” the girl groans. She stumbles away and Leorio rolls his eyes. He’s not about to risk sleeping with someone who won’t remember it. He scans the room, tapping his feet to the music. It’s pretty difficult to make out where one body ends and the next begins. He finishes his drink and slips into the crowd, grinding and spinning and hopping his way between stranger after stranger as he tries to find someone worth sticking to. A slender mummy trips into him and he laughs as he pulls them closer. 

“You good, pal?”

“Mmm,” the stranger hums. They lean into Leorio and grind their hips back, reaching a bandaged arm up to rest on his shoulder. Leorio grins. His hands travel to their hips and find a few inches of skin between the wrappings. Their sides are surprisingly muscular. He bites his lip and maneuvers carefully, not wanting to lose this new match. 

“You hiding something under all these bandages?”

The stranger laughs. It’s a low, delicate sound, one that vibrates through their body up against Leorio’s chest. He smirks into their black hair. The guy kinda sounds like a kid from one of his labs that he’s had a passive crush on for the last semester. Nice. Leorio’s hands wander a bit and the mummy arches against him. One of their hands lands on his thigh and squeezes. 

“Wanna get outta here?”

The stranger nods and turns around, tugging Leorio into a quick kiss. They taste like tequila and smoke. He smiles against their mouth and cups their ass around the goofy costume, enjoying how plump and firm it is. “You got a nice ass for a dead guy,” he slurs, “got a name?”

The mummy laughs again and shakes their head. They’ve completed their costume with a thick layer of makeup that makes their eyes look like they’ve sunk deep into dried skin. Bandages cover most of their features. All Leorio can identify in the dark room is long eyelashes and a soft, hungry mouth. A hand slips between his legs and rubs him playfully. He grins. “Alright, where we headed?” 

Leorio chuckles as the mysterious mummy tugs him into the muddy backyard of the frat. He trips over the door and grunts as the stranger shoves him against the wall, pushing up to thrust their tongue back into his mouth. Their hand is already undoing his zipper. Whenever Leorio tries to reach for them, they somehow dodge his touches, until he’s wondering if their costume is just too fragile to fuck around with. The chain-link fence nearby looks like it’s wiggling. He moans quietly as cold fingers slip into his boxers and run down his cock, tugging a fistful of black hair closer to deepen the kiss. “You gonna let me touch you or what?”

The stranger pulls Leorio’s cock free from his pants and gives it a few strokes as they kiss his neck. Before he can ask again, they’re on their knees. “Oh, shit,” Leorio mumbles drunkenly, “cool.” His head falls back against the wall as the mummy’s tongue flicks across the tip of his cock. He runs a hand over their slicked-back hair and grins as they open their mouth and suck down the first few inches. Whatever they’re doing with their tongue feels fucking incredible. Leorio groans excitedly as the mouth slides further down his cock, gently rocking his hips forward into the stranger. They’ve got both of their hands wrapped around him, twisting and squeezing expertly as they work their mouth lower. Leorio’s grip tightens on the back of their head and they moan around his cock, managing to suck down half of his length. 

“Jesus Christ,” Leorio groans, “you’re good at this.”

The stranger hums happily and keeps working. Leorio’s cock bucks against the back of their throat and they gag but recover quickly, using their hand to keep stroking while they focus on sucking the tip. Their other hand wraps around his ass and squeezes him closer. Leorio can feel the loud bass of the party throbbing through the building but he no longer cares if someone comes out here, not if this mummy is gonna keep sliding their saliva down the length of his cock and choking down as much as they can and wrapping their tongue around him. His eyes flutter shut as more of his cock disappears down their throat. Another low curse works its way out of his own mouth. He yanks a fistful of black hair excitedly and they moan again so he pulls harder, shoving his cock deeper into their warm, wet mouth. His body wants to fuck this throat harder. Leorio’s just sober enough to know he should hold back, but god, it’s hard not to take both sides of their head and thrust as hard as he can. They pull back for a breath and pant quietly. He blinks down at them. 

“Wh—“

“Use me,” they gasp softly. The voice is definitely familiar. Kinda weird that this guy wouldn’t just admit that they’re classmates, but maybe he’s closeted. Leorio’s head swims drunkenly as he squints at the stranger. They frown slightly. “Use me,” they say again, and then they open their mouth wide and look up at him through these half-lidded eyes and what’s he gonna do, ignore such a clear instruction?! Leorio growls excitedly and grabs the back of their bandaged head, shoving as much of his cock into their mouth as he can in one go. They gag slightly but moan happily so he thrusts faster, clutching them down almost to the base of his cock as he fucks their face. He hears a desperate whimper and notices that the guy has pulled his cock out and is stroking himself furiously. The thought of someone being so turned on just from sucking his cock sparks some crazed hormones in Leorio’s brain and he groans loudly, roughly yanking their head back and forth with each aggressive jump of his hips. Every sound they make is muffled around his cock. Each time they gag only drives Leorio faster, which seems to be the right idea, cause they’re looking at him like he’s a goddamn angel for using them like a fucktoy. Suddenly the guy’s moans speed up and the feeling on Leorio’s cock is like magic and then he feels them shake and looks down to see that the stranger has come all over the ground, their gauze-wrapped hips still thrusting vaguely into their trembling hand as he fucks their whimpering face. 

“Jesus Christ,” Leorio moans again.

The stranger moans loudly and Leorio thrusts faster, succumbing to the heat burning in his stomach as he chases his own finish. It doesn’t take much longer. Leorio groans happily as his hips stutter against the stranger’s nose, shoving their head down as they gag and push against him and his cock shoots hot spurts of cum down their throat. The mummy falls back, gasping for air and wiping the drool and cum spilling from their swollen lips. Leorio blinks and staggers forwards.

“Whoa,” he mumbles, “that was crazy. You wanna get outta here for real?” He reaches out but the mummy is already back on their feet and readjusting their gauze bandages. Leorio whistles through his teeth as they turn around to wipe dirt off their ass. “God, your ass is amazing,” he chuckles drunkenly. He palms a hand over it and they smirk as they lift his wrist away. Leorio pouts. “What?”

The stranger just shrugs and slips back into the party. Leorio frowns after them. “What did I do?” He tucks his softening cock back into his pants and stumbles inside, squinting through the crowded rooms for anything resembling a mummy. He can’t find them. He goes for another drink and runs into one of his friends.

“Hey, dude, you seen a mummy with black hair around? Guy just sucked me off and dipped,” Leorio laughs.

His friend laughs and shrugs. “Dunno, man, but sounds like a blessing to me!” He claps Leorio on the back and trips back into the dance floor, disappearing among the throng of bodies. Leorio sighs and downs his drink. Kinda disappointing. But also incredibly hot.

Leorio only lasts another hour before he’s just shy of being too drunk to walk home. His friends shove him out the door and point him in the direction of his dorm and he laughs giddily as he stumbles through the snow, mumbling a half-assed sea shanty to himself. He frowns slightly at the book open on his desk. He doesn’t remember leaving anything out, but it’s been quite a night, and he’s not sure he can trust himself. It’s that cancer book. Leorio sticks his tongue out at it. “Fuck you,” he slurs to the book. He slumps into his chair anyways and shakes the book vaguely. The long-forgotten note from Chrollo falls onto his desk. Leorio giggles to himself as he rips the envelope open. He gasps. Five hundred dollars, in cash, spills into his lap. The room spins around him. “Shoulda opened that sooner,” he grunts to himself. A piece of paper flutters to the ground and he snatches it back, squinting at the spidery handwriting. He’s way too drunk to read this. Leorio yawns loudly and slams the note down on his desk before tossing his clothes haphazardly around the room and collapsing into his bed. 

—————

Chrollo giggles drunkenly to himself as he staggers back to the apartment he’s been crashing in. The mummy bandages are slipping off again. He crashes through the door and lurches into the bedroom, tripping over the corpses of the original owners. He hums quietly as he tears the gauze away. His makeup is absolutely  _ ruined  _ after letting Leorio fuck his face, and he looks like he’s been crying for a thousand years. He giggles as he half-consciously scrubs his face. A rather terrible thing, tricking him so boldly, but also  _ quite  _ fun, especially with the confirmation that Leorio is still physically attracted to him on some level. Hisoka would be thrilled. Chrollo falls into his bed and giggles again as he opens his phone. Might as well brag. 

Hisoka’s phone goes straight to voicemail. He’s probably still playing that stupid game. Chrollo giggles drunkenly as he leaves a message. “You’ll never believe what I just did,” he whispers, “and who I did it with. Goodbye!” His phone slips from his hand as he succumbs to sleep. 

—————

_ Happiness is not an ideal of reason, but of imagination. _

_ Immanuel Kant _

_—————_


End file.
